Like Father Like Son
by Soulsurfer2112
Summary: Daryl's long-lost, abusive father unexpectedly shows up at the prison, leaving everyone but Daryl oblivious that Carter is Daryl's father. What will Daryl do to solve the problem and how long until the group will finally understand what's going on?
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so this is my first Fanfic. I spent a little over a month working on it and I decided to post it :) I had a lot of fun working on it since we don't really learn much about Daryl's father in the TV show, so I took up the idea and came up w/ this! It's already completed and this is the first chapter. Please read and enjoy! I'm open for suggestions, requests and ideas! Thanks!_

"Bored," I muttered to myself. "Bored bored bored. Damn."

I was leaning against the wall, my arms crossed, staring glumly at the ground, kicking the cement floor with my heel in annoyance. Across the room, Beth was sitting at a table, cradeling Lil' Asskicker. A towl was draped over her shoulder and she poised a bottle upright above the infant's face, allowing her to happily suck the formula. Beth jiggled Lil' Asskicker, calming her whimpers and rearranging the bottle in a better position for her to drink. Hershel sat beside Beth, peering over her shoulder to get a good look at the infant, and Maggie, who was standing behind them, was cooking a stew in a big pot on the stove. She occasionally glaced over her shoulder, just to be sure everything was alright, before she resumed cooking. Everyone was occupied, everyone was busy, except me. I pursed my lips as I watched them, the only activity I found interesting. I sighed.

"Is there anything else I can do for ya?" I offered.

"Thanks," Maggie replied. "But I can handle it."

"Judith is okay" Beth assured me. "Unless you want to hold her?"

I shrugged and looked away, rolling my eyes. Hershel noticed, and spoke up.

"I know, Daryl," he called to me.

I remained quiet, slightly annoyed that he understood how I was feeling. I looked down at my feet, digging my toe into the ground absent-mindedly.

"Rick, Glenn and Carol promised they would be here soon. They didn't go far. I'm sure they're fine..."

"I'm not worried," I huffed. "I'm bored. Ain't nothing to do but shit."

Hershel shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with my cussing. Beth merely glanced, then continued to feed Lil' Asskicker. Maggie didn't even stop to turn; she continued stirring, churning the stew into a thick broth for dinner. Just thinking of the stew reminded me of how meager my meals have been for the past few days and I realized just how hungry I was.

"Have you checked the perimeters?" Hershel asked me.

"I got all along the fence," I replied hoarsely. "Them bastards are just waltzing around in the field now."

"How's our ammo?" he inquired.

"Got enough to kill five herds," I answered, refusing eye contact. "About 1,000 rounds."

"What about your arrows?"

"My bow's fine," I retorted. "Ain't nothing to do."

"What do you do in your free time?" Hershel asked.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"There ain't no time for free time anymore," I snarled at the old man.

"I wouldn't say that," Hershel said craftily. "The world could use some skills, some arts..."

"Who do ya think I am? Some artist? What am I supposed to do? Paint portraits of Walkers?" I scoffed.

Hershel laughed heartily, which only teased my stressed behaviors.

"I ain't nobody like that," I muttered. "Don't got the skill; don't got the time."

"There must be something for you to do," Maggie piped up.

"...like helping Rick..." I interrupted. "Like I wanted to do in the first place..."

"You know Rick told you not to go," Hershel said sternly. "He specifically chose Glenn and Carol."

"So Carol can go and I can't..." I growled to myself. "Super."

"He wanted you to stay and guard," Hershel said, pretending he didn't hear.

"Glenn coulda..." I spoke up.

"He has been...for too long. It was Rick's decision and you should give Glenn a chance to leave the prison too. He's been hauled up here longer than you have..."

"Hate these damn cages," I told myself. "I feel like that damn skunk that Merle caught and kept, until I free'd the fella, then he sprayed me and ran away. Smelled like shit for months. Poor bastard..."

All through the afternoon, I meandered around the prison, desperate for entertainment. I polished my already-clean arrows with the filthy rag dangling from my back pocket, tried folding laundry but failed and gave up, I searched the Nurse's station and cafeteria for spare supplies but left empty-handed, and spent the rest of the day perched in the guard tower, solemnly leering in the distance, awaiting the arrival of the green van.

It wasn't until sunset that I spotted the car, full-throttled and eating the road towards the prison. I sat up, squinting as I watched the vehicle enter the field and pull up to the road. Carl, who had been hanging outside, was there to open the gate, allow the car to enter, and seal the entrance shut from the Walkers. My heart racing, I picked up my crossbow and jogged down the stairs to meet them.

"Daryl!" Rick called to me.

I jogged to reach him as he shut the driver's door.

"How was the run?" I asked him.

"Not good," Rick admitted. "But I think we found some things that will be useful."

"How was it out there? Were there a lot of them?"

"More than I can count," Rick said bitterly. "We kinda...ran into a close call..."

Glenn stepped out of the passenger seat, slammed the door, and stormed away. In his hand, he gripped his sickled-machete with white knuckles, the blade dripping in blood. His hair was messed up beneath his blood-splattered cap and sweat was soaked beneath his armpits. He was a total wreck.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked Rick.

"Like I said, we ran into a close call. Glenn nearly escaped. Tripped down the stairs, kinda blacked-out, and a Walker jumped him. I put him down just in time."

"Where did ya'll go?"

"Some well-stocked store. There was this huge Walmart place off the highway, about 15 miles away. Hardly touched. Found what we needed; blankets, medicine, tools; we cleaned that place out. Barely fit in the car." Rick gestured to the bundled materials tied at the roof of the car.

"Damn lucky," I told him.

Rick nodded tiredly.

Behind the car, another door opened. Through the tinted windows, I saw Carol step out, talking excitedly to herself.

"...oh, and just wait until you meet Hershel. He can help with that..."

"If it weren't for Carter, Glenn would have been slaughtered. Glenn's mad though. Claimed he could have taken care of himself, but I'm sure he would have been bitten. It has been hard..."

"Carter?" I repeated, growing suspicious. "Who the hell's that?"

"Yeah, new guy," Rick replied. "He saved our asses. Warned us just in time as a herd of Walkers migrated into the town. Glenn's back was turned again and Carter nailed the Walker. I'm almost surprised he didn't notice. Might just be a bad day..."

"Carter?!" I interrupted him. "You took ANOTHER person here?...when the Governor could be closing in?! Are you THAT stupid?!"

"He's an honest man," Rick assured him. "We owed him gratitude and offered him a stay here, just until he's back on his feet."

"Here? But..."

Just then, Carol rounded the corner. She emerged from behind the car, chatting nonchalantly to herself in an eager tone. Until, I realized, she wasn't alone. A lanky man lingered by her side, responding to her questions while watching her interestedly.

"Speaking of the new guy..." Rick said pleasantly. "Carter?"

Carol stopped talking and stood aside, grinning as Rick approached him. The man's face lifted and his lips pulled into a smug half-smile, as if he knew a secret that Rick and Carol were oblivious of.

"This is it," Rick announced. "Safest place we could find. And this is Daryl..."

The man's eyes traced Rick's gesturing hand to me. He turned to face me, nodding a "hello" until his eyes met mine. Carter's smile faded slowly, his eyes glazing over me with horror stricken in his face, his pupils dilated with shock. He looked me up and down in disbelief, his mouth slightly open in surprise. Then I returned the gaze.

The man was tall, about the same height as me, with a dark, shaved head. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, and his skin was a light olive from a prolonged exposure to the elements. He was filthy, smelled like crap, and his clothes were bloodied. It was as if he took a dirt bath then showered in Walker blood. But what stood out the most was his eyes. They were a light blue, matching a cloudless sky, watercolored with various shades green and speckled with hazel. They grew larger as we locked eyes, each of us observing the hues in our pupils. I knew those eyes...

I couldn't speak. I was beyond the inability to speech. My limbs froze, my face fell, and I trembled slightly, swaying as if I were about to pass out.

"What...what the...?" I sputtered.

"Is that anyway to treat your ol' man?" Carter said slyly, a smile rising to his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

_I hope you are all liking it so far! I decided to post the second chapter now. Please read and review. I take suggestions, requests, and ideas. Enjoy! :)_

I sat on my bunk, my legs hanging off the mattress, muttering to myself. My face was in my hands, occasionally smoothing my hair in an irritated manner.

I can't believe it, I told myself. Him? HIM?! How the hell did he find me?!

I grunted, stood up, and began pacing the room nervously.

He's back. Oh, he's back. He won't be happy. He ISN'T happy. He's pissed. After years and years, that ol' bastard managed to survive. But HOW did he find ME?! Such a small damn world...

There was a soft knock at the door. I scrunched my face and whirled around to glare at whoever it was, only to retreat to a solemn sigh upon the realization of who it was. I was relieved it wasn't Carter.

"Daryl?" Carol asked meekly. "Can I come in?"

I didn't respond. She cleared her throat again and spoke, clearly hurt.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay..."

I turned away, facing the wall, my hands on my hips, staring down at my feet. My mind was so jumbled with thoughts. It horrified me. Here? He was here all along? And now he's at the prison. He knows where I am. All those years...Merle isn't here anymore. He knows that. What am I supposed to do?

Carol, upon seeing the idea of not being wanted, she refused to leave. She walked to my bunk, sat down carefully, folded her hands in her lap, and waited patiently for what seemed like forever. I was growing annoyed with her presence, but didn't say anything. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her feelings. She was the last person I ever wanted to hurt.

"Daryl," she said at last. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I muttered. "It's fine."

"You stormed off," Carol said, ignoring my excuse. "That man...did he say something to you?"

"No. It's fine," I repeated. "Forget it."

"You seem uneasy..."

"Well no shit," I retorted.

"But this man, he helped us out. You shouldn't shun him..."

"We gotta take care of ourselves," I told her sternly. "This ain't a daycare. I don't want this place turning into Woodbury #2."

"So what's one man? We could use the muscle and military experience..."

"Pft!" I growled, slouching against the wall.

Carol looked down at her hands, disappointed.

"If it weren't for him, we probably wouldn't had noticed the herd. We could have been trapped in that store..."

"You would have been just fine without him," I assured her harshly.

"No, I wouldn't have," Carol argued, her voice growing watery. "Because if he wasn't there, I probably would be dead too."

I turned to look at Carol, watching as her head fell and tears spilled down her face. She wiped them away quickly and sat up straighter, trying to hide her sadness.

"It was Carter who took out a good chunk of the Walkers. I ended up hiding in the bathroom stall as two came in. He took them both out, one of which was clawing it's way beneath the divider. Just fine without him? If you call a tragic death of being eaten alive is fine, then you're right. But it isn't, and you're not."

I looked away, biting my lip.

So, my ol' man has a kind heart for ladies? Why didn't he have one for my mother? What about me and Merle, huh?

Carol, seeing my mental debate, though unaware of the situation, sighed.

"You have to get to know him more. Maybe you'll warm up to Carter. Maybe, in a week, he won't be a stranger anymore..."

She was oblivious, I told myself. Carol has no idea. NO idea. Carter? He was my father, and not a good one. My childhood was a wreck because of him. I still held the scars of all those times he punched me like a damn punching bag, or how he slashed my back with his leather belt. How he would lock me in my room and starve me for days, holding me captive like a prisoner. His own son! He treated me like total shit. Merle too. That's why he left first, and when he did, I was abandoned with a man who beat me every time he got shit-faced drunk. I wasted years with him, and I got away by the time I was 12. I thought he was as good as dead, but I guess Carter adapted as quick as I did. Damn asshole...

"Ain't no way I'm getting close to that bastard," I told Carol. "He's a cold-hearted piece of shit. He needs to go."

"You don't know him yet!" Carol pleaded. "Give him a chance!"

"If he isn't gone by morning, I'm getting rid of him myself," I stated firmly.

"You have no jurisdiction to make a decision that cruel," Carol argued. "Get that sick idea out of your hard-head and accept him. It's only temporarily..."

"Ain't no way he's coming in here..."

"Just please get over it. He may be a great addition to the group..."

"He's gotta go..."

"Daryl!"

"It's a damn mistake!"

"Really, Daryl?" Carol said, her voice rising. "Taking in a friendly stranger is a 'damn mistake' you say?!"

"Hell yeah!" I exclaimed.

"Then why?"

"Trust me."

"Why?!"

"Just trust me!"

"Daryl!"

"Bitch, listen! That man is 10 times worse than Merle!"

"How would you know?! You just met this guy!"

I stopped talking. Carol looked at me, her eyes wide.

"Well?" she pressed. "Why?"

I stared at her blankly, loss of words.

"Why, Daryl? Are you going to support your reason?!"

My fists were clenched. I gritted my teeth. I was pulsing with rage.

"WHY?!" she exploded.

"BECAUSE I GONE THROUGH 12 YEARS OF HIS SHIT AND I AIN'T GONNA LAST ANOTHER MINUTE!"

With that, I stormed away, leaving my cell. Carol was left, perched on the mattress, her hands gripping the bed as though she were about to fall over. She was trembling slightly, her face beet red, and she was panting, on the verge of tears.

Bitch needs to stop crying, I told myself. Like a damn baby. Lil' Asskicker is more grown up than her.

I nearly tumbled down the steps as I ran from the cell, but I grunted furiously and marched out of the giant room lined with cell blocks. I entered the large chamber, throwing open the iron-bar door carelessly, which screamed in pain. When I stepped inside, my face immediately burnt red; everyone was still, paused in the middle of performing their actions, staring at me in disbelief.

I cursed under my breath.

Shit. They heard me. Goddamn it.

Rick was the first to approached me, his hand resting on his gleaming, silver Python. I threw daggers at him with my eyes.

"What?" I demanded. "Am I the enemy now?"

"No, Daryl," Rick said cautiously, raising his hand to calm me down. It only made me madder. "Just hold up a second..."

"Leave me be," I growled, pushing aside him.

Rick extended an arm and gripped my shoulder to stop me. Immediately, upon a practiced reflex, I flinched, thinking it was an attack. When I opened my eyes, Rick was watching me with a woeful expression. Fuming, I shrugged him off harshly and glared at him. Rick backed away.

"Daryl, chill out. There shouldn't be a problem."

"Yeah? Well there is," I spat in his face.

I turned on my heel and paced towards my crossbow, which was propped up against the wall near the iron door of the prison.

"Daryl! You shouldn't go outside. It's late. You won't be able to see."

"I'm going hunting," I lied.

"At nighttime?" Rick asked me in a sarcastic tone. "Yeah, right."

"What's it to you?" I snarled.

I stopped, inches from the handle, waiting for a response. I took a step back, facing the rusted door, and dropped my head, sighing. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, imagining what they were thinking through my self-conscious mind.

Crazy redneck.

Another temper-tantrum? Figures...

Why is this guy still here?

I blushed angrily and clenched my jaw, my crossbow falling to my side sheepishly.

Why AM I still here? I thought to myself.

Rick's footsteps echoed through the room and ceased until I was positive that he was behind me.

"Daryl, I don't know what's got you worked up, but you shouldn't make any decisions that you would later regret."

"I don't regret nothing," I scoffed.

"I didn't say you did..."

"Got anything else you wanna say to me?" I challenged, turning to face him.

Rick backed away, descending the small staircase in defeat. Looking up, I saw 5 faces staring at me; Maggie, who watched with worry; Glenn, who was almost mad; Hershel, who was disappointed; Beth, who seemed frightened; and Carl, who was gripping his gun, debating whether or not he should raise it to my head. I spat at the ground and turned away, unlocking the door.

"That's it, then?" Rick called after me.

I froze in the door and sighed. The door opened, I stepped outside, but didn't close it behind me. Everyone remained motionless. The room was so quiet that I could hear the blood thumping in my ear, an adrenalin kicking my chest, and the labored breathing of everyone in the room. My crossbow was shifted to a comfortable position on my shoulder.

"Gimme some time," I told them in a husky voice, then exited the room without anymore interruptions.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks so much for reading! I hope you guys like it! It's a little long, but I urge you guys to follow and continue to read. Please enjoy! :)_

Rick was right; it was damn dark outside. The air was humid and thick, but the breeze was soothingly fresh and cold, and a thick blanket of darkness enveloped the light-speckled sky, the silence interrupted by the low moans and cries of the Walkers. My footsteps seemed disembodied as I shuffled across the empty pavement, my crossbow creaking over my shoulder. I couldn't see five feet, even as I squinted, so hunting wasn't an option during this time of night. Not like it was a shame. I didn't want to hunt anyway.

I made my way across the paved lot, stopping by my motorcycle. I hung my crossbow on the handle, crouched down, and opened the flap on the side-pouch of the vehicle. As I shifted through the materials, a peculiar sound prickled my ears. I raised my head, remaining still, holding my breath as I strained to listen. The sound of heavy, crescendoing footsteps and labored breathing matched the description of a Walker, and I panicked.

A damn Walker here? I thought. Shit.

I retrieved my crossbow, still facing my bike, and loaded an arrow, quickly and quietly as possible. The footsteps were approaching fast behind me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was face-to-face with glimmering, pearl eyes that prayed for my flesh in it's teeth, crawling at me with decomposed fingers. I raised my weapon and whirled around, aiming my arrow at the head. Only, instead of white eyes, a pair of blue eyes, mirroring my own, were watching. I didn't drop my crossbow.

"You came here?" I asked him harshly. "For me? For revenge?"

"I didn't know you were here," Carter replied in a dark tone.

"Yeah right," I snorted. "Well, why don't you leave now?"

"Who says I'm leaving?" Carter demanded.

"I did."

I started walking towards him cautiously, my crossbow pointed at his head, between his eyes. Carter merely chewed on his lip nonchalantly, shrugging it off.

"I ain't leaving yet. I was offered a place to stay. Where else am I supposed to go?"

"Try Woodbury," I snarled. "Heard they have a 'good' leader."

Carter rolled his eyes.

"How stupid do you think I am, Daryl?"

"Stupid enough to beat the living shit outta me," I spat in his face.

My crossbow was inches from Carter's throat. His eyes flitted from the raised weapon then back to me, idling his fear. He knew I could pull the trigger, and though he showed no fear, he didn't try to argue.

"Sometimes, children need a good whacking to get their heads straight..."

"I ain't no child," I retorted.

"You were one; a damned one."

"I learned from a bastard..."

Carter tensed, the veins on his neck bulging, but I jerked my crossbow at him, the arrow jabbing into throat. He remained still, but he was ready to explode. If my crossbow wasn't here, he would have jumped me. The thought of him doing so caused my fingers to tighten around the trigger and become rigid, prepared to shoot.

"Knock it off, Daryl," Carter said in an annoyed tone.

"What? Scared imma gonna pull the trigger?"

"You don't have the guts. Never had them. Took you months to kill a damn squirrel..."

"But killing you would be easy," I growled, edging closer to him. "There would be no regret, no loss, no emotion. Your death would be unaccounted for, cast away like shit. Ain't no one would care; not Momma, not Merle, not me..."

Carter took a shaky breath, his eyes hard and cold. Out of the corner of my eye, his hands twitched. My finger jumped on the trigger.

"You're afraid, Daryl," Carter taunted.

I grunted, shoving my weapon at his face, but he chuckled to himself slyly, mocking my weakness.

"You saw what I did to you...those years after so many beatings to teach you a lesson didn't seem to affect your dumb-ass mind."

I remained quiet, my finger jiggling on the trigger. So badly did I want to push it, to see the arrow plunge into his Goddamn skull, but my hand wouldn't allow me to. The trigger only flinched.

"You really think that you're brave enough to stand up to me. Is that what you think?" he said maliciously.

"No," I said, feeling the heat rise to my face.

"You want me dead. I know you do. You thought leaving me as the world went to shit would end it. Really? It's gonna take more than that, Daryl. I'm bigger; I'm stronger; I've whooped your ass for years and if I hafta do it again..."

Carter took his hand and shoved my crossbow away. I raised it once more, defending myself.

"Don't lay a friggin' hand on me..."

"It's the only way to teach you the shit you forgot to learn..."

"Keep away or I'll shoot!" I barked at him, jamming my crossbow into his neck, the arrow cutting into throat.

Carter let out a low laugh and backed away a step, my weapon poised at him. I secretly begged myself to allow my trembling finger to rest in the trigger, but my hand hesitated. My arms felt limp as I held the weapon, trying to look determined to shoot when we both knew I couldn't. A wicked smile pursed Carter's lip.

"Go on," he said slyly, raising his arms. "Go on. Try. Try to kill me. An unarmed man. Go on. Try. I dare you. You won't have the guts. Not like your damned momma..."

I let out a roar, my finger plunging on the trigger. The arrow shot out immediately, perfectly armed at Carter's throat. It soared across the pavement, and hit the wall dully, falling uselessly to the ground.

What? What the hell...?

Carter had ducked, seeing my attack, and launched up at me. My crossbow fell with a crash to the floor, bouncing away from me as Carter shoved me to the cold pavement, landing with a grunt. On my back, staring up at the sky, Carter hung over me, both legs on either side on my body. I saw the malicious grin on his face, the anger seeping from his eyes, yet the happiness it seemed to contain. The punches started immediately.

In a flashback, I saw myself on the floor, but this floor was carpeted and reeked of stale alcohol, bug spray, and vomit. I saw my father, towering above me, his face tight with anger, a slight stubble on his chin, and he wore a shirt that was drenched in sweat. I watched in terror as punch after punch launched towards my face, fists and fists raining all over my body, striking my stomach, then my face, then my chest, screaming as he bore down at me.

"This is what you get!" he would shriek. "This is what you're making me do! This is your fault! Not mine! Yours!"

I remember lying there helplessly, tears spilling down my face as my father attacked me. I remember how one landed on my eye, feeling the searing pain, and how I recognized the inability to open it as it was swelling shut, half-blinded as his punches never ceased. I tasted the blood that was summoned from a hit to the jaw, and felt my nose crack as a fist connected perfectly, feeling the blood ooze from my nostrils and down my throat, causing me to sputter. A kick in the gut caused me to squirm, in an effort to regain my breath, while a punch in the chest made me cough erratically. His boot, now his prime weapon of destruction, was repeatedly striking my stomach, making me keel over and curl into a ball to prevent other attacks. My thighs soaked pain like a sponge in water, my arms grew weak and limp, and my face was tight, hidden in my battered hands, crying for mercy, praying that the pain would end.

"Stop!" I remember pleading. "Stop! Please! Daddy, that hurts! Stop it!"

A terrified scream. It didn't belong to me.

"No! Stop it, Carter! Don't do this!"

"Leave me be, Lorretta! Learn from this, boy. Learn your damn lesson! You deserve it! I'm not the bad guy! Learn your lesson!"

My eyes opened suddenly, searching the area around me frantically. I was gasping for air, shivering violently, although I was steaming from fatigue and pebbled with sweat. I was pinned to the ground, coughing up blood that spewed from my dislocated jaw. My right eye was swollen shut, leaking tears, and I couldn't breath through my nose; everytime I did, I could feel bones shifting and cracking, causing eruptions of groans. My stomach felt raw and my throat burned with bile, the temptation to vomit too overwhelming. I just laid there, sick as a dog, panting as though I had just ran a mile. I was limp against the cold pavement, my eyes heavy; there was a sense of relief that it was over. Pain littered my body and I was exhausted, but I was relieved he had stopped. A hearty chuckle arose above me, but I couldn't do anything but close my eyes, desperately trying to regain my breath.

"See?" snarled an evil voice. "And yet, I highly doubt you learned your lesson."

"I didn't...learn nothing..." I rasped, choking on blood.

Carter laughed at my misery.

"Same damned child..." he muttered.

He stepped away, grinning at me. He gave one last final kick to my gut, ending the fight. I rolled over, coughing until my throat was scarred and scratched. I threw up on the ground, gurgling vomit, regurgitating my last meal until I was positive I puked up my stomach. Carter just watched silently, pleased with himself to demonstrate his point. He then turned around and trotted away, ignoring my sharp coughs and frequent spasms that made my mouth explode with slimy acid, pooling around my body as a thick mush. My body, sore from my father's beating, my mind angry with myself that I couldn't attack, made me feel worse. I laid there, groaning to myself, whimpering slightly, listening as the Walkers went crazy for the scent of my blood beyond the chain-link fence. Being so weak, my eyes began to roll into the back of my head. Helplessly, my body refusing to move, I fell into a troubled sleep. A sense of bliss overwhelmed my exhausted mind, my abused body, my quivering muscles. Embracing the enveloping slumber, I fell asleep, soaked in blood, saliva, and vomit, not caring that Walkers were feet away, clawing for my flesh. I let out a sigh, my body remaining still, and dozed off into what seemed like the best, and worst, sleep of my life.


	4. Chapter 4

_How do you guys like it so far? Comment what you think! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it!_

"Oh my God!"

"What the hell happened?!"

"Is he dead?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, voices penetrating into my horrid nightmares, tricking my mind into thinking they erupted from my dreams.

"How did he get here?!"

"I thought he went hunting...he didn't make it far..."

"He look's terrible! Was he attacked?"

"Obviously not the work of a Walker. They wouldn't do that..."

"But...who would do such a thing?!"

"Wait! Hold on! I think he's waking up!"

It hit me like a wave, rolling over me and adding piles and piles of monstrous pain. I had a crook in my neck from sleeping awkwardly, my back took a toll from the cement, and I felt completely drained of energy. Vomit had dribbled down my face, blood crusted my already-chapped lips, and my shirt was rimmed with sweat. My muscles were sore in my legs, thighs, arms, you-name-it. I could also tell that my skin was peppered in goosebumps and fresh bruises, and I would be covered in scratches head-to-toe.

I took a deep shaky breath, letting out a quick exhale upon the realization of how painful my ribs felt. Breathing through my nose was impossible, but breathing through my mouth tempted another session of vomit. I groaned, wearily opening my eyes, blinking against the harsh sunlight and the shadows looming above me.

"He doesn't look to be in a good condition."

"Is he waking up? Did he say something? I thought I heard him say something..."

"Daryl? Daryl, can you hear me? Daryl?"

My eyelids flickered close. Another moan escaped my lips, along with a labored coughing fit. A swarm of hands fell over me.

"He needs help! He's going to die!"

"What if he got bitten? What if he's hit with the fever?"

"How could a Walker do this?! They wouldn't leave him bruised like this! They would eat him down to bones! This was the work of a man..."

"What if the Governor did this?! Could it be that the Governor attacked him?"

"Guys! Daryl can't breathe! We gotta help him!"

I kept coughing until I managed to hack up more digested fluids from my system, then settled into a shaky trance where I remained still, hesitantly breathing, praying my lungs could function properly. My throat stung and begged for water, even though I knew my stomach couldn't handle the refreshment without vomiting again. I had a killer headache, my limbs were too exhausted to move, and so badly did I want to sleep. But the voices were yelling above me, calling my name, keeping me from dozing. I wanted to tell them, I wanted to let them know, but I was too tired to say anything. The excessive fits of convulsions were rendering my body helpless and weak, almost forcing me into a coma. It was brutal every time my stomach lurched and liquids bubbled from my mouth. I literally felt like I was on the verge of death.

A generous amount of hands reached out for me, turning me over to my side as I threw up. I coughed, my body thrown forward, forced to be curled into a ball, surrounded by acidic fluids that I barfed. I kept vomiting until my convulses were in vain, my stomach trying to pump out the liquids even though it was empty, which made me just cough without puking up the food I had eaten days earlier. I kept retching until my body calmed down, growing tranquil and unresponsive again. I released a sigh, thankful that it was over. I felt much better, but I was still in pain.

"What could be wrong with him? Hershel?"

"He may just have an illness. Maybe he caught something..."

"Daryl got sick so suddenly..."

"A virus, then?"

"...but I think it may involve his injuries. He couldn't have done that to himself."

"But WHO did it? We obviously didn't. We were all in there, safe and sound in the prison, locked in our cells. Someone from outside attacked him, I just know it..."

"But no one was here..."

"You don't know that. The Governor is out there, a few miles away. He could have easily snuck up, taken him out, and left him here."

"How long do you think he was out here? All night?"

"Only one way to be sure..."

I felt a hand grip my shoulder, firmly but not hard enough to cause any pain. I inhaled sharply, searing pain ripping through my chest.

"Daryl? Can you hear me? Wake up. C'mon, please wake up..."

My face contorted with pain as I turned my neck, craning to look up. Pinching my eyes, I slowly gazed up at them sleepily, not fully aware of myself. I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the light. I was surrounded by tall figures, their faces blurred from my watery vision, their facial features concealed in the contrast of light and darkness. My head fell back to the pavement with a groan.

There was a flurry of gasps, followed by questions firing from all directions.

"What happened?"

"What hurts?"

"How did you end up like this?"

"Was it the Governor?"

I tried to speak, but it came out as a series of smeared mumbles.

"Daryl? Daryl, answer me."

"I'm...I'm fine..." I gasped.

"No, Daryl. You're not. Hershel! Get medical supplies. Set up the room in the prison. We're gonna need it. Everyone else, pitch in. We gotta move him into the prison. He won't do good out here."

Pairs of hands flooded my vision and swooped around me. On the count of three, hands dove under my limp body and lifted me into the air. Immediately, I felt insecure with all the hands grazing my skin, flinching with every step as my head bobbed lifelessly. I started shivering again, my clothes wet and clinging to my body. There was nothing that could make me happier than to be in a hot bath. Damn shame there wasn't any plumbing...

The slam of the door and the sudden change in light told me that we were inside. They descended the small staircase with small, hesitant steps and I was moved across the room.

"Over here!"

I was carried into the cell-room, everyone heaving to keep my body suspended from the ground. They brought me into one of the cells, everyone crowding around the bunk bed.

"Ok, on three; one...two...three!"

Everyone grunted, lowering my body on the stinky, tattered mattress. I sighed, relieved that I was inside and off of the vomit-splattered pavement. My head reclined on a pillow, resting the crook in my neck, but I was freezing, shivering quietly, and I submerged beneath a wave of nausea.

"Blankets. Get blankets, Maggie."

"He looks better, now that he's inside..."

"I think he might get sick again..."

"Someone get some water! Where are those blankets?!"

I rolled over again, gagging as my stomach tried to expel excess fluids, though none remained. I chocked, coughing hoarsely to the floor, my eyes squeezed shut. My ribs felt broken, my lungs were ready to explode, and my stomach was cramped from the convulsions. My body felt like it needed to vomit up my intestines. But at last, I settled back on the stinky mattress, gasping, chocking, blood and saliva drooling down my face. I didn't give a crap. Remaining still eased the pain, and I almost didn't want to breath. Every inhale itched my raw throat, and my nose felt awkward.

All because of my father, I told myself. Because of him...

A moist cloth was rested upon my head, dousing the fever that radiated from my skin. I moaned softly.

I feel so weak right now, I told myself.

The last time I was bedridden was when I had the Flu as a child. Laying helpless in bed felt weak of me, though on the other side, all I wanted more than anything was to sleep.

Baby-ish, I though. My father must be gloating secretly to himself.

I got mad, but refused to move.

"Daryl?"

"We should let him rest a bit."

"No. For all we now, he could be hanging by a thread between life and death..."

"He's exhausted, overwhelmed; this man can barely talk. He needs rest, time to recover..."

"He might need life-saving techniques..."

"As far as I'm concerned, it's just minor injuries. He was ruffed up quite a bit..."

"Then explain why he's been throwing up...why he was found, passed out on the pavement, alone, cold, probably there all night..."

"That must have been when he was attacked. You should leave him alone..."

"Not until I find out who did this and what's wrong with him...Daryl? Daryl, can you hear me?"

"He's out cold, Rick..."

"He's sweating through the blankets and shivering tremendously. I think he has a broken nose too and a black eye; his breathing is labored..."

"Maybe the experience was too much to handle..."

"He got jumped, Hershel, by two, three, maybe four men. He was beaten to a pulp. Look at him!"

"Best keep quiet then, Rick. He needs the rest."

"What could they have done to him that Daryl couldn't handle? He's one tough son-of-a-bitch..."

I smiled to myself.

That's right, I told myself. My father IS a bitch. He did this to me. God, I hope Carter heard that...

"Even a man like Daryl can't handle a gang all at once. He was taken down; we didn't know. Only, who would beat Daryl like this during that time of night?"

"I'm telling you; it MUST be the Governor! No random guy would spot him here, attack him then leave him for dead. No one from the group would have the intentions to do so..."

Carter, I thought. Carter. It was all Carter.

"Let's just give him some time alone. He's obviously exhausted. Let him rest some."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Better than hovering over him, shaking him to wake up. Let his body take care of himself. Maybe when he wakes up, he'll be able to consume food and take some medicine."

I listened as people quietly shuffled out of the room, taking turns exiting through the small iron-bar door. After a few moments, the room was dead-silent. I heard their footsteps as they descended the creaky staircase and headed for the large lobby, growing fainter until I heard the assuring sound of the cell door close. I was engulfed in silence, my husky breathing the only audible noise I could distinguish. I knew that they would all be seated at a table, discussing plans for the future in hushed tones, but I couldn't hear their voices. I was still on the bunk, taking short, hesitant breaths, trying to inhale deeper and exhale longer each time. It was a pain, having to think to breathe properly. I imagined that if I forgot, I would die of suffocation. It was a troubling thought.

Through the curtain of silence, something stirred within the room. The soft clicking of a toe, the light breeze wafting from the quick movement of a body, the sudden change in temperature, allowing cold air to seep through the door. I combined the suspicious traits and knew that someone had entered the cell uninvitedly. I didn't need to open my eyes to know it was Carol.

I felt her weight as she sat at the other end of the bed. She was very light, very thin, and I almost felt bad for her being so skinny. I wondered if she ever ate at all considering how tiny she was. She had shallow breathing, taking frequent, watery gasps. I heard her sniff several times, pause to wipe away a tear, before she resumed breathing normally. I could feel her eyes watching me, imagining them to be glazed with water, sunken with purple bags beneath her eyes, and mournfully staring at me as I slept dreamlessly. Only, I wasn't asleep. I remained quiet, hoarsely breathing, listening to her intently.

"Daryl," I heard her say meekly. "I...I don't know if you can hear me...I mean, I want to talk to you so badly but...you're scaring me. Everything that happened last night, between us...I want to apologize. You were scaring me, Daryl. I didn't know what you were saying but...you were getting so mad at me, and I was just so confused. I thought I screwed up, I thought it was something that I did. I hope it wasn't...I just want to know what's up with you, what's making you mad...after you left, God, I felt so bad. I felt ashamed. I thought it was because of me, I truly did. And then...I found you...just, lying on the pavement, lifeless. My heart broke. God, I thought you were dead. I couldn't help but cry...but when you coughed...oh Daryl my heart skipped a beat. I was thinking 'he's alive...he's alive; we can turn this around...' and Daryl...I just care so much about you. Everything that I argued about...I'm sorry that I made you mad. I didn't want to make you mad. I just...thought you needed a little push in the right direction. I thought I would be helping you but...I don't know. I messed up my words and Daryl, I'm just so sorry. I never wanted to anger you. And I'm like about to cry now because...because..."

Carol choked on her words, tears dribbling down her face. I felt the bed shift and she took her hand off the mattress to wipe her wet cheeks. She sniffed her nose then, in a cracked voice, continued to speak.

"...because its my fault you got hurt. It's my fault that you're angry and you stormed off because of me. I just...if I didn't argue with you, maybe you wouldn't have been beaten. Daryl...I care so much about you. Just seeing you in this condition...it really breaks my heart..."

There was a short pause in her speech, and I, with my eyes close, almost started to drift asleep for the lack of communication lulled my dreary mind. However, I felt the bed shift as Carol stood. She walked until she was beside me and hung over my head, breathing quietly as she watched me mournfully. Her hand collapsed over mine. Instinctively, I knew that I would flinch. But, I didn't. The temperature of her hand was warmer than mine, her skin just radiating excitement, anxiety and embarrassment for cradling my hand, although it ceased my shivers and almost gave me goosebumps. Carol laced her fingers with mine and slowly, delicately, her thumb stroked my bloodied knuckles, staring woefully at my battered hand.

At first, I thought,

What the hell is she doing? What am I? A baby?

But on another side, I didn't want her to stop.

Carol stopped what she was doing. I heard her swallow hard, and place my hand back on the bed. She then leaned down, hovering inches from my face. She exhaled softly, and I could detect the faintest scent of pine needles and stagnant water, a fragrance that I was rather fond of, considering how long I've lived in the wilderness. For a moment, she waited, then she leaned farther down, hesitated for a second, then kissed my forehead. Her lips barely brushed my skin, almost feather-like, but it was enough to kick my heart in adrenalin and cause my lungs to exhale loudly. Carol then stood immediately and fled the room quickly, as if being caught by her little action would make her in trouble.

I just laid there, shocked, my heart racing.

The last think I remember thinking was, Damn. I can't remember the last time I kissed a girl...


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! Yes, this is a Daryl-story and Carol is a sub-character, but I still urge you all to read. I hope you all have a great Memorial Day weekend! Enjoy!_

I woke up slowly, sluggishly opening my eyes. My cell room was full of light, and I blinked furiously, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. Groaning, I shifted my position on the mattress, stretching my cramped muscles.

Wait, I thought, looking around the room suspiciously. How did I...?

But then I remembered; the attack, the pain, the flashback...my father. Found outside all night, brought here, Carol...

I swallowed hard. Though my limbs ached, my eye throbbed, and my nose felt crooked and awkward, the pain had dulled as I slept. However, I still felt groggy and worn from the previous day, although I knew I couldn't stay in this bed any longer. I had to get up and get moving.

Enough of this shit, I told myself. A man's gotta work...

Slowly, I kicked the sheets away from me, swung my legs off the mattress and grunted to sit up. I was greeted by a swarm of nausea and dizziness, feeling light-headed from the simplest of action. I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled sharply, trying to eliminate the approaching fit of convulsions. As I attempted to stand, an arm extended out towards me, firmly holding me back, encouraging me to lay down again. I remained sitting.

"You shouldn't be up..."

I looked over to see Rick, patiently waiting by my bedside. He was seated in a stool, his hands folded with his chin resting on them, watching me with worry. When he saw that I noticed him, he stood abruptly, blocking the entrance as he stared at me from above, knowing that my first instinct would be to flee. I rolled my eyes.

He knows me too well, I thought.

"How long was I out?" I asked casually.

Rick didn't take the topic lightly.

"Three whole days," he replied sternly, hinting at the severity of the situation.

I remained neutral, cooly shrugging it off.

"Bet it's about time I get up..."

"You're not going anywhere, Daryl," Rick said, pacing up and down the room, his eyes locked with mine.

I looked down, pouting.

Why must everyone treat me like a child? I thought angrily.

I sighed.

"Well, three days, huh? How about some food? Can't stop me there..."

"We'll bring it up. But first, we have to know what happened; why you were found outside, beaten, blacked out, retching continuously..."

"Ain't nothing..."

"No, Daryl," Rick warned. "I mean it; what happened out there?"

"I don't remember," I lied.

"We have to know. Informational purposes..."

"I said I don't know."

"There's no need to hide it, Daryl. I know you find it embarrassing that you were found like this and you just want to jump up like you're too cool to play sick..."

I blushed heavily and growled, staring at him menacingly.

"...but you can't shake this one off. The whole group is involved now. There could be a danger lurking here in the prison, and if they can take you out, no one else is safe. We need to know..."

I bit my lip nervously, silently debating. Rick watched me and respectfully backed away.

"I'll bring in food. You must be starving..."

"Hell yeah," I muttered.

"Everyone's going to come to see you. They're anxious to figure out who done it, Daryl. They want this settled and taken care of, but we can't do that unless we know who did it; you're the only person who could have possibly known...just think it through. You got some time..."

Rick left the cell, quickly, the clicking of his boots descending down the stairs. I reclined uncomfortably in the bed, listening to Rick's voice echo and bounce against the walls.

"He's awake?" someone asked, clearly astounded. "What did he say?"

"Is he alright?"

"How has he been acting?"

"You can go see for yourself," I heard Rick reply. "But I don't think we should crowd him. That attack hurt him more than I think..."

"Was he really bitten?"

"No," Rick said. "He's been acting kind of funny. His mental state must be out-of-whack. He seems much more emotional and stressed. In fact, I thought that he was going to sprint away the second he woke up if I didn't barricade the cell door. The attack...it bruised him, and he's left with injuries; that black eye and his broken nose will take ages to heal; but, I feel like it hurt him more mentally than physically. Daryl can handle a lot of physical-demanding activities, but when it comes to mental problems, Daryl can freak out easily. He may not tell us who did that to him..."

"Why wouldn't he?!"

"Maybe...the occurrence was a stress to his mental state of mind also, not just a physical aspect..."

"What makes you think that?"

There was long pause. I heard Rick clear is throat.

"I know Daryl, and Daryl doesn't like to mention his history, his past. It's his personal life, and no one can mess with it without engaging in one of his rants. Maybe the experience was not only sudden, it was...personal...maybe it was too much to handle. Maybe that's why he won't be so quick to explain..."

"He better tell us. It's putting us at a risk, Rick..."

"We all trust Daryl, so extend your trustworthiness just a bit farther, knowing that he will make the right decision and that he'll tell us what he knows. If he cares, if he isn't stubborn, he will admit what happened..."

"C'mon. Let's go, guys."

A large mass of people entered the cell room, chatting amongst themselves eagerly.

"I'm telling you; it MUST be the Governor!"

"You think he's going to be pissed?"

"I hope he trusts us as much as we trust him..."

Everyone filing behind Glenn, the most anxious person to find out what occurred, was marching loudly across the room, closely followed by Maggie.

"The last thing I want is for the same person who attacked Daryl to attack you," Glenn told her. "...or anybody else here."

"Daryl wouldn't keep something so serious to himself," Maggie assured him, blushing.

"Can't be too positive. Daryl's loyalty may be debatable in this situation..."

The group dodged the stairs, went around, and continued on. They counted the cells until they reached the last one, lonesome in the corner, the door slightly ajar, filtering the light through the iron bars. Glenn entered first, then Maggie, and everyone followed suit. They squeezed awkwardly into the room, everyone crowding around the bunk bed. It wasn't until everyone was inside did Glenn speak, slightly astonished.

"Daryl?"

As the group shuffled around in the tiny cell, gazing at the empty bed with surprise, they didn't notice the sleek, black figure lurking around the corner, who immediately ducked out of view when Glenn called out his name and sprinted to the exit, slipping outside silently.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6, everyone! I absolutely love the comments and feedback I'm getting. Thank you so much for taking your time to read and evaluate my FanFic. However, I want to point out one thing. Yes, the idea of Daryl's father coming the prison is highly unlikely, and how the group is oblivious is a stress, but I spent a lot of time working on it and I wanted to make it more dramatic and entertaining. Please keep reading and enjoy. Hope you like it!_

Shit! I screamed at myself. Ugh! You coward!

I ran my bruised hands through my hair, swallowing the nausea and the rising temptation to vomit. I rubbed my black eye furiously, squinting hard to see as I crossed the paved lot, a slight limp in my right leg. I spotted my crossbow instantly, lying awkwardly beside my motorcycle where it bounced away from me, leaving my hands when Carter tackled me.

"Carter," I muttered. "That bastard..."

I bent down stiffly, picked it up, and growled venomous words as I examined my crossbow, taking note to its fresh scratches. I reset the string, held it up, and tested the scope for accuracy. Seeing no major damage, I loaded an arrow, aimed and then fired at the wall.

The arrow landed blankly on the ground beside another arrow; the same arrow that was aimed and planned to be shot at Carter.

It's easy as hell to shoot it, I told myself, lowering the weapon. But, when aimed at Carter...I just...couldn't...

Grimacing and grabbing my side, lugging my crossbow over my shoulder, I picked up the two discarded arrows and sat against the wall uncomfortably. I laid my weapon on the ground and stared down at my hands, inspecting my arrows silently. My fingers pricked the pointed tip and I rubbed the metal pole of the arrow, feeling for dents. I took out my red, tattered rag, shook out the dirt and dried blood, and swiped the arrows clean. After storing them in the quiver on my crossbow, I leaned back against the wall and sighed.

Dumb ass, I told myself. You idiot. Why am I doing this? WHAT am I doing anyway? Lying around? Ugh!

I stood up quickly, grunting as I swayed lightly on my feet, but regained my balance by gripping the brick wall. I began to pace frantically, cussing as I continually criticized myself.

You couldn't take him out. Killed hundreds of them bastards, the Walkers, but HIM?! Someone you never wanted to live with? Someone who you decided not to live with? Someone who you CAN live without? Shit...

As I circled the pavement, the sudden squeaking sound of a door opening make me jump out of my skin. I looked up and saw Carol, watching as she stepped outside, partly hidden by the pallets propped up against the fence for protection and cover if we were ambushed. She held her hand over her eyes to search the area that was bathed in light from the evading sun. It didn't take her long to see me, standing there out in the open.

If this was hide-and-seek, I told myself. I'd be the worst player. Ever.

"Daryl!" she called, waving to me. Her face was lit up with a smile, excited that she found me. But I wasn't happy at all.

I turned around, stormed off to my crossbow and picked it up, tossing it over my shoulder.

"Daryl! Daryl, over here!"

Ignoring her, I started towards my bike, the idea of driving away was blinking like a warning sign in my head.

"Daryl!"

I tied my crossbow to my bag, threw my leg over the seat, and gripped the handle bars. A key twisted in the ignition and my bike flared, grumbling idly as it spewed exhaust.

"Daryl! Wait!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carol hurrying down the stairs, throwing the door open and running after me. I had already drew back my fist, causing my motorcycle to lurch forward. Driving steadily, Carol jumped into the lane ahead of me, my tires drawing near her, but she didn't move.

"Wait wait wait! Daryl, stop!"

For a split second, I was sure that I was going to hit her. My bike was clocked at a speed that could flatten her easily, run her over without problem, but Carol kept her territory. Her hands were extended out towards me, her face wide with fear, and her eyes were just bursting with anger, horror, and shock. She practically had to scream my name again to be heard over the engine of my motorcycle.

"DARYL!"

Jolting awake, upon the realization, I slammed on the brakes and pulled the handlebars back, my bike skidding along the pavement. I nearly fell off my motorcycle as I slid towards Carol, who was remaining still as I came barreling at her. The bike spun awkwardly, scraping across the lot until it was inches from Carol, where it came to an exaggerated halt. Loosing control of the steering, I slammed my feet on the ground, desperately trying to keep the bike steady as it swerved off-balance. By the time my motorcycle stopped moving, we were both gasping, heaving a sigh of relief.

"What?!" I barked at her. "Damn close to turning ya into road-kill!"

"You...you were leaving?" Carol asked me, trying to catch her breath.

"Hell yeah!" I replied, throwing my hands in the air. "You think I got on this bike to run ya over?!"

"No! No, I just...you turned away..."

"Maybe I needed to get away," I retorted.

Carol smirked.

"I know you saw me. You purposely turned away. You were...ditching me."

"Nothing personal..." I muttered.

"But, you knew I was coming..."

"So what?!"

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"No! I said it wasn't personal..."

"Daryl..."

"I just don't wanna talk now," I told her sternly.

Carol's eyes began to water and I looked away, silently cursing myself.

"Don't wanna talk to Rick, Glenn, whatever..."

"We've been waiting for you to wake up. We've been anxious to find out..."

"About what?" I said, although I already knew.

"About what happened!" Carol replied. "Look at you!"

"Ain't nothing..."

"Oh, it most certainly IS something, Daryl," Carol warned me. "Don't put it off like this..."

"Ain't putting it off..."

"Daryl..." Carol groaned.

Her head fell backward with a sigh. I growled in a grumpy manner, growing irradiated as she pieced together what she wanted to say. She jutted out her hip, her hand resting on her waist, and she looked at me with serious eyes. I remained grim, swallowing the lump in my sandpaper-like throat.

"Daryl, I'm getting sick of this. You're running away like a child who was caught stealing candy and every time I confront you, you just look at my with these annoyed eyes. I mean, can't you see what I'm doing? How I'm trying to help? You would feel better and it would be way easier if you would listen to me for once...or have the guts to look at me..."

Immediately, my eyes diverted back on Carol, who was growing impatient. I smirked and looked away, then glanced back at her to see if she was still staring at me.

"I don't wanna be spoken to," I told her firmly. "I don't wanna argue or be blamed or whatever you guys accuse me of doing..."

"You did NOTHING!" Carol exclaimed. "SOMEONE did this to YOU! What we want to know is who. Who! Who did this to you? Are you saying that you did it?"

"Hell no!" I said, my voice rising.

"Was it a Walker?"

"No one was out here but me..."

"So no one from the prison...?"

I didn't answer. I looked away quickly as Carol pondered to herself.

"So, then it must be someone from outside..."

I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming.

"Am I right?"

Silence.

"Daryl!"

"What?"

"So it must be someone else who wasn't at the prison, correct?"

"Well..."

"Daryl, please tell us. Tell me: was it the Governor? We must know if it was him."

I stared deep into Carol's eyes, watching them solemnly as they begged for me to reply. I bit my lip nervously.

"I...I don't..."

"C'mon, Daryl," Carol said reaching for my hand.

I jerked my arm away before she could contact my skin.

"I ain't gonna go back there..."

"Please, Daryl. Please! Maybe you'll realize how badly we need to know if everyone's there to hear..."

"No. No, I'm not."

"Daryl," Carol complained.

"I don't wanna talk in front of them!"

"It's not that bad..."

"For you, maybe. It's going to be Hell for me!"

"You're being cowardly about telling the truth because you have stage fright?" Carol asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

I blushed heavily.

"It's different."

Carol grew quiet, but eventually, without me noticing, she reached over and entwined her hand with mine. The same balance of heat felt soothing, and I allowed her, for one of the few times, to hold my hand, though I kept my gaze separate. Coaxing me softly, Carol persuaded me to get up from my motorcycle and park it.

"I'm right here, Daryl," she told me earnestly. "Just tell us what happened; that's all we need to know..."

I sighed, then looked at Carol sternly.

"Let's just get this over with then..."

She tightened her grip and, like a mother leading her child, she guided me back to the prison, where I hesitantly, but obediently, trailed behind her, cursing myself.


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm really glad that you guys like it! Thanks for the feedback! I hopeyou continue to read it. Enjoy! :)_

Carol gently tugged me inside, my feet trudging beneath me, dreading my "grand" entrance. I knew what they were thinking.

This guy is unbelievable!

Won't he EVER act normal?

Why is he so afraid of us when he can kill a Walker, no problem?

Typical red-necks...

My face burned with embarrassment as I was led to the prison, Carol gripping my hand. She looked back at me, questioning my status, and I nodded to show her that I was okay.

"It's not bad, Daryl..." she said softly.

"I don't need advice or lecturing," I said quickly.

I ain't a child, I told myself.

"Just wanna get this over with."

Slightly hurt but understanding, Carol opened the door to the prison and stepped inside with me walking unwillingly behind her.

"Daryl?"

I looked up to see Rick standing in the center of the room, approaching me. Everyone had gathered at a table, holding a discreet meeting without me, probably whispering plans of action and debating their opinions of my behavior. When they all saw me and Carol, everyone else rose from their seats quickly and followed Rick, hanging behind him closely to hear what he had to say. I pulled my hand away from Carol.

"Daryl?"

I returned Rick's gaze with heavy eyes, grunting as he fumbled with words.

"Daryl...why did you...?"

"You totally left us," Glenn said, stepping out from the crowd. "You're in no condition to just walk away from us when we have been waiting for you to wake up. That was almost selfish of you!"

"Easy, Glenn," Rick warned, holding up a hand.

"No! No, Daryl shouldn't have done that. What if he passed out again? We wouldn't have known! That could leave him vulnerable to Walkers or put him in a worse condition than he already is. And what if the same person who attacked him came after him again?! Another beating and Daryl's dead for sure. And what about us? What if WE are attacked?! We NEED to know who did this so we can be aware, provide better protection for ourselves. But Daryl here, oh Mr. I-can-take-any-shit-this-world-throws-at-me, thinks he's invincible..."

"That's enough Glenn," Maggie whispered sternly behind him.

Glenn stepped up to speak, but hearing Maggie's threat, he grunted and remained still, continuing to accuse me through the appearance of his eyes. Rick rubbed his forehead, sighed, and spoke up.

"Look, Daryl..."

"Uh, Rick?" Carol said abruptly, giving me a reassuring glance over her shoulder. "Maybe he should sit down first. We don't want him to topple..."

Carol, who offered a hand that I refused, helped me down the stairs and watched me as I settled in a nearby chair. Everyone else gathered, circling the chair that I sat in. They swarmed me like a herd of Walkers, and I noticed that I was frantically looking around for an escape. They were towering above me, like giants, their faces partly shielded by the difference in light. All I could do was look up at them innocently, panicking as claustrophobia squeezed the life and sense of mind from my body. I found myself breathing rapidly.

They are stealing my air, I thought. I'm going to choke...can't breathe...too close...gasping...can't inhale...can't exhale...air...I need air...

"Is he okay?"

"Oh my God, it's happening again?!"

"What the Hell is wrong with him?!"

"Get away from him!"

"What's he doing?"

"A panic-attack. His body is in shock, which increases his desire to breathe, yet in the mind, lessens his will to live."

"So you're saying he's suicidal?"

"He's over-reacting to the situation. We need to give him some room."

"He needs help!"

"What he needs is space. We're crowding him and I'm sure as Hell that's why he's having a panic-attack."

"Claustrophobia? How in the world...?"

"Back up! Everyone, back up, now! Move! C'mon, move!"

The crowd backed away, everyone crouching to be eye-level with me. I kept my eyes shut, sputtering as I gasped, heaving until I was doubled-over.

"Maybe it isn't a panic-attack...could it be that his heart is giving up? He's in a great deal of pain..."

"No, it's a panic-attack, all right."

"What's causing it? Claustrophobia?"

"That may have triggered it, but I'm sure that there may be another engine that's keeping him from calming down."

"Like what? Small spaces?"

"It could be a result of stress, strong emotion..."

"The attack! His mental-state of mind! I'm telling you!"

"He's been holding it over his head like guilt and shame. It may be the reason why..."

"But, why would he be so ashamed of...?"

"We have to calm him down before he passes out from hyperventilating!"

"What should we do? Should he breathe through a bag?"

"Daryl?"

A pair of hands rested upon my knees, gripping them firmly. I coughed hoarsely, resuming my ragged breathing pattern.

"Daryl. Calm down. Just relax."

Not this shit again, I told myself.

"C'mon, it's going to be okay. Relax..."

Relax, I told myself. Relax? Relax! Relax, relax, relaxrelaxrelaxrelaxrelax!

"Daryl, stay with me. Daryl! C'mon now, don't drift off..."

I blinked hard, choking as I tried to swallow and inhale at the same time.

"Deep, deep breaths, Daryl. In through the nose..."

Squeezing my eyes shut and inhaled sharply through my nostrils.

"...now, out through the mouth..."

I exhaled a raspy sigh past my quivering lips. I repeated, trying to slow down my breaths.

"That's it, that's it. Nice and easy..."

I inhaled deeper through my nose, holding it in longer and longer each time, until I was sure my lungs would burst, and I relieved an exhale, growing weary. I could just feel my heart slowing down, noticing how my lungs returned to normal. With my elbows on my thighs, the same pair of hands giving my knees an assuring rub, my face collapsed in my hands, shielding my flushed cheeks and watering eyes.

"Is that better, Daryl?"

Peeking through my fingers, I saw that the hands belonged to Rick. I nodded slowly.

"Yeah," I said roughly, swallowing hard.

"Everything ok? Fine now?"

"Yeah."

The was a small silence, followed by the shuffling of feet around the room. Even though I wasn't looking, I could tell that the group was closing in around me again by the increased volume of their breathing and the difference of temperature, being so close that their body heat mingled with mine.

Haven't I had enough humiliation for one day? I thought angrily. Can't they just leave me alone?!

"Daryl?" Rick asked aloud.

I didn't reply. He leaned closer and whispered instead.

"Daryl?"

"What?" I asked him, a little too harsh.

Rick's hands fell away from my knees. He stood up, placing his hands on his hips.

"This conversation has been stalled enough..."

Glenn snorted in the background.

"Anyway," Rick said, casting a warning, sideways-glance at Glenn. "We've waited long enough, you've spent enough time by yourself to figure things out..."

Enough time by myself? I thought. I barely spent 5 minutes alone until Carol came and dragged me here! Bullshit!

"...you have to tell us now. You can't just keep it between yourself. That's too big of a burden to carry. You got a lot to worry about already."

A hand lightly touched my back unexpectedly. My hands fell away from my face, I jerked my shoulder and turned around to see Carol standing there, her hand gripping the fabric of my denim jacket affectionately. Seeing her kind eyes, I turned around again and looked at the floor, shaking my head slowly. I could feel her fingers pricking the fabric, trying to soothe my tense nerves. Though the sudden interaction frightened me, thinking it was someone else who was laying a hand on me, I sheepishly gave in and allowed her to.

"Daryl."

I looked up at the group surrounding me. Claustrophobia was at my throat, threatening to choke me, but I swallowed hard and tried to overcome it. I went through each person standing in front of me, noting them mentally in my mind.

Rick, with his hands on his hips; Glenn, his arms crossed and his face hard; Maggie, standing behind Glenn, a hand rubbing his shoulder as she occasionally whispered something in her ear, most likely the only thing keeping him from exploding; Carl, gripping his gun behind his back; Hershel, somberly watching as he shifted uncomfortably on his foot, his crutches creaking under his weight; Beth, beside Hershel, hugging his arm to aid his balance; Mitchone, her hand resting suspiciously on the handle of her sword; and Carter...

Carter? I thought madly. Here? Now?

When our gaze locked, my eyes widened for a second, surprised that he was here, mad that he was here.

Shit. He saw that. He SAW that! Oh shit. No!

I looked away quickly, feeling his gloating eyes bore down on me, Carol's rubbing increasing on my back, as if she realized what was happening and was doing that to keep me calm. But how would she know? She DOESN'T know. Carol thinks Carter is a great guy! She believes that he would be a great addition to the group! She thinks that he's here because he heard what was going on and came to explore the situation. Bullshit. Complete bullshit. He did this. He beat me. It was him! It was...but...if they knew...oh God, if Rick and the group found out that my father did this...

"Daryl, I'm BEGGING you. Tell us who it was. Did you see them? Could you indentify them? Were they someone we knew?"

I cleared my throat.

"Yes."

There were a couple gasps.

"Good to know," Rick said, trying to contain a smile, pleased that I was finally being helpful. "Do you know who it was? How many were there?"

"Only one."

"And, you were ambushed then, correct?"

I stuttered, thinking about how Carter attacked me.

Yes? No. Maybe? Ugh...

"Yes."

"Can you tell us who, Daryl? Who was it?"

My face rose, my eyes flitting from face-to-face, examining their emotions. Many seemed anxious, leaning forward as they listen intently, praying that their predictions to who it had been was true. I met Carter's gaze, bewildered by his facial expressions.

Behind everyone stood Carter, out of view, out of mind. Looking up at him, I could tell just how happy he was. He could practically be jumping up and down for joy. His malicious grin captured rows of his rotten, yellow teeth, his eyes gloating as he witnessed me, cowering before everyone else, knowing that I was debating whether or not to say his name as my enemy, as my father.

Go on, his wide eyes taunted. Tell them. Tell them that I beat you. Me, an old man they found on the road. Tell them that I'm your father, tell them about how many times I whipped your ass out of disrespect towards me. Tell them. Tell them! How can a man like me take down such a "strong" guy like you, huh? They'll think that, they'll think it's crap. They won't believe you! They'll think your lying. How could it be me? Oh, I just met you, Daryl! How could it be me? Tell them. Tell them now. Tell them! Go on! Do it.

I started to shiver, willing up the courage to speak. Carol, worrying about my sanity, started rubbing harder. Even though I wasn't looking, I could tell that she was sending worried messages through her eyes at Rick and the others, warning them of another breakdown. I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth as I choked a swallow. Meekly, I spoke.

"The...the Governor. He did this. It was him who attacked me..."


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi everyone! I'm so glad that all of you enjoy it! What do you think so far? Being this is my first FanFic, I'm very surprised and pleased. I'm actually working on another Daryl-story and I'm excited about it. Hopefully it can come out soon. Stayed tuned! Here's Chapter 8!_

There was an immediate uproar.

"The Governor?! For real?!"

"Oh my God. He's coming for us!"

"But how could he...?"

"What if he's in the prison right now, spying on us?!"

"He's here?! The Governor got you?!"

"No, Glenn!" Maggie shouted.

Glenn shoved past everyone, storming out of the room, leaving out the large iron door that led outside. Maggie hurried after him, probably worried that the Governor would attack him too if he was alone. She already pulled out her gun.

I looked down at my feet sheepishly, knowing that Carter was laughing inside. While everyone else became agitated like a swarm of disturbed bees, I remained sitting, soaking in the shame of lying. In the corner of my eye, I saw Beth slumped against the ground, her hand over her mouth, sobbing erratically.

"Meeting," Rick announced. "Everyone. Now."

Slowly, everyone began to tread out of the room, filing after one another. I watched as the crowd dispersed, Carter swallowed by the group, most likely attending the meeting that Rick had called moments ago. Their chattering was still heard, even as they migrated into the cell-room. I started to stand, but Rick pointed an accusing a finger at me.

"Not you. You stay put."

Rick turned to Carol.

"C'mon. You're needed at this meeting."

He started down the hall, taking great strides towards the iron-bar door, holding it open for Carol and motioning her to hurry. Carol hesitated, but she leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"I'll talk to you afterwards..."

She jogged into the cell-room, Rick closed the door behind him, and I heard the thundering *click* of the lock. He eyed me momentarily, gave an assuring nod, then left swiftly after the others.

I sat alone in the room, it's caving ceilings and rectangular windows barricaded by iron bars suddenly overwhelming, scaring the claustrophobia away, almost giving me the idea of too much space. Voices and noises echoed around the empty room, it's origin a mystery that could never be solved. I examined the chamber somberly, a mild wave of depression engulfing me entirely. Though I enjoyed my solitude, there was a need for socialization. I was terrible at striking a conversation and discussing nonchalant topics, but I needed someone to talk to. Someone who would just sit down and listen intently as I engaged them in a horrible diatribe, though they would remain respectful. Someone who I knew could keep a secret, no matter how personal, how embarrassing, or how vital it would be towards my life. Someone who I knew I could trust, who trusted me from the start and built a strong foundation beneath our caring relationship. Someone that would actually care and won't ignore my problems, even though they might not affect their life. Someone like that...someone...

Though I longed to indulge into a deep conversation about the personal affairs that I wallow in today, I got up and silently walked towards the door, my back against the wall so I wouldn't be seen. I leaned towards the iron-bars, straining to hear the voices in the other room.

"...can't be!"

"Maybe he's delusional?"

"He passed out, remember?"

"He got sick too quickly, a diagnosis that can easily be connected with a virus. Perhaps his fever gave him the illusion of the Governor attacking him..."

"But that wouldn't explain his injuries, Hershel."

"Maybe he did that to himself!"

"Now, why would he do that?"

"The Governor must have attacked him. He snuck up on Daryl in the middle of the night and took him by surprise. No one could beat Daryl so severely. He can handle himself, but when against the Governor..."

"What if it wasn't just the Governor? What if his gang of men showed up too, giving them the advantage."

"Daryl said that it was only the Governor who attacked him..."

"Why should we believe him? It took him long enough to keep it a secret. He obviously didn't want us to know."

"But why?"

"That was selfish of him not to tell us right away. We could be in danger!"

"Now, how could the Governor be here? We scoped this place out a dozen times and the yard is full of Walkers..."

"What about the South-side?"

"I don't know."

"Listen, everybody. It took a lot for Daryl to admit it, but I'm not questioning his loyalty and honesty towards us. If he knew this was a problem, he wouldn't keep it to himself. Risking the group's safety isn't something he would do, despite his personality. Now we know the Governor is here. Now we know what he's up to. Let's use this time to fortify the place, increase security, and establish rules and guidelines as a pre-cautious measure. We can handle this, as long as we work together and map out our strategy."

"We can't sit on our asses. We need to take care of this problem before it takes care of us. I say we end it."

"End what?"

"The Governor, of course! He's out here somewhere and I'm sure we can find his little base camp if we search the place thoroughly. And once we find him, we put a bullet in his head. Woodbury would leave us alone and his little gang will be left running."

"That's not a coordinated plan. That could leave us standing solo against the Governor, and if Daryl had no shot against him, what makes you think we'll escape in a better condition?"

"I'm just saying that we should get this problem over with. I can't stand just waiting for him to make his move. What if he's planning on charging us as we sleep?"

"What's best is that we stick together. We'll work in shifts, in teams, and we'll time it accordingly. We'll need to map out our plan as a group and set up what's needed. We can take the Governor, no problem, if we schedule our moves logically. How does that sound?"

There was a blurred murmur of agreement.

"Ok. We can start tomorrow. Everyone should get some rest. I'll lock up and keep watch for a bit. Someone needs to fetch Glenn and Maggie before we settle down..."

One by one, everyone entered the room again. Hershel limped across the chamber, followed closely by Beth, who kept her head down and refused to look at me. Mitchone slithered past, pouting as she usually does, with Carl trudging behind her. I saw Carol, and my heart leaped, hopeful that she could give some information, but I stepped back immediately, staring at her dumbfoundedly as I saw her speaking to Carter, who was loping along beside her.

He casted a sideways glance at me, smirked with his crooked half-smile, then leaned close to Carol. He whispered something quietly to her and when he finished, Carol was giggling happily, giving him a playful shove.

"Oh, c'mon! No he wouldn't!" she said, stifling a laugh.

But Carter grinned at her and said, "Hell yeah, he would!" which only caused more eruptions of laughter from Carol.

I stood behind them, watching in horror as my father mingled with Carol. I never thought of him as funny, friendly, or even as a father, but with how Carol was acting around him, it made Carter look like a charming man. But I knew he wasn't. Would a charming man beat his children, me and Merle? Would a charming man abuse his wife? Carter is no more of a man, let alone charming. He is sneaky, sly, and I could tell how he was buttering everyone up, making them laugh and feel at ease, erasing the possibility that it was him who ambushed me the other night. It was him! Him! But as far as everyone knows, the Governor did. I lied to save his ass. But why? Why did I lie?!

Carter wished Carol a good night, which she returned politely with a smile, and then glided towards me. I looked down as she approached.

"Anything?" I asked her hopefully.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" she asked me. "It's getting late. Besides, you need the rest."

"But what about the plan?" I pressed on, begging for an answer.

Carol replied with a sympathetic frown and shrugged.

"Tomorrow, Daryl. Go get some rest."

Without another word, Carol started off towards her cell, leaving me hanging in the poor conversation I cooked up. I growled grouchily to myself, mad that I had to wait until morning to find out what Rick was planning on doing.

I stood there for a while longer, leaning against the wall sadly, my arms crossed and my head hanging low. Rick approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"C'mon, man. You need to sleep."

"I don't need nothing," I retorted.

Rick didn't seem to listen because he began to usher me into the cell-room, walking beside me cautiously, prepared to catch me in case I fell. He guided me into the same cell I woke up in earlier this morning and had me sit down on the bunk. I didn't lay down completely.

"I know, Daryl," Rick said.

I didn't look at him.

"It will be discussed further in the morning. I suggest you sleep before you pass out from exhaustion."

I don't remember falling asleep exactly, but I do remember being overcome by a drowsiness that became soothing as soon as I settled into the bed. My eyelids began to droop and after an eternity fighting to stay awake, I allowed my body to indulge in a dreamless slumber, eager yet dreading to wake up the next morning.


	9. Chapter 9

_Okay, so I'm getting some comments about some stuff that I would like to clarify. Yes, often I give dialogue without stating who said it, but that's only because Daryl is eavesdropping and/or not involved in the conversation, but based on their dialect, it shouldn't be hard to figure out who said what. Second, Daryl didn't tell the truth for various reasons that will be understood towards the end of my short story. I_ _really do appreciate what you have to say and I hope you all will continue to read. Thanks! :) (Also, due to finals coming up, I'm going to take a little break so I can focus on my studies, but I'll be back to post soon) Enjoy!_

I woke up later in the day, when the sun was a couple hours away from high noon and the prison was alive and active with the commotion of busy chores and heated discussion. Rising gingerly from the mattress, grunting with the effort to stand, I stopped in front of the cracked mirror hanging on the wall above the sink that no longer activated water and gazed upon my reflection solemnly.

Dirt coated my face, literally caking around my neck and even spilling onto the ragged clothes that I refused to exchange so they could be cleaned. Though the swelling in my eye had decreased, my socket was still pretty bruised and my nose started to heal, but I still had trouble breathing through my nostrils. My lip was cut and the blood had crusted overnight, and I had quite a lot of scratches and scrapes from being against the pavement for so long. The vomiting ceased, though I often felt sick to my stomach, and the headaches were slowly dissolving, converting to minor throbs instead of dizzy pulses. Overall, I felt better, but I still looked horrible, carrying the injuries of my attack as a burden.

All because of Carter, I thought. Filthy, sleazy Carter. That asshole...

I left my cell and meandered into the large chamber, surprised to find everyone inside. Rick and Glenn were seated at a table, hunched over a map of the prison as they pointed to various locations and spoke in hushed tones; Maggie and Carol were in the corner, chatting nonchalantly to each other happily as they folded laundry and stacked them in baskets; Mitchone was doing core exercises by herself on the opposite side of the room, her skin glistening with sweat as she did continuous sit-ups; Hershel was seated at another table, beside Rick and Glenn's, cradling Lil' Asskicker and tending to her needs of being nurtured; Beth was busy cooking over the stove, multi-tasking with a pot and washing the dishes while Carl stood beside her, watching her with great interest and occasionally asking her questions that she replied with a smile. I was satisfied to find that Carter was no where in sight.

Immediately upon arrival, though no one bothered to greet me, Beth ran up towards me timidly to present a bowl of warm, lumpy oatmeal.

"It isn't much," she apologized. "But I figured you're hungry. There's more if you want it..." and she hurried back to her work station, cooking and cleaning rapidly without appearing stressed. She seemed to be enjoying herself actually, keeping us fed and cleaning up the mess, and Carl seemed happy to be talking with her too.

I looked down at the dollop of oatmeal in the metal bowl, suddenly realizing just how hungry I was. I haven't eaten all day yesterday, and in fact, I haven't eaten while I was asleep after I was attacked. No wonder I had been feeling too weak; just sniffing the steaming oats made my mouth water, my stomach growling, demanding the food immediately.

Ain't squirrel, I told myself, which was a personal favorite. But this grub will do.

I silently walked towards the table Hershel was located at and sat directly across from him, setting my bowl down in front of me. Before I started eating, Beth hurried over and placed a cup of lukewarm water on the table, shoving a metal spoon into the heap of oatmeal for me to use. I glanced up at her, thanking her with a nod. She smiled warmly, then turned around and practically skipped back to work, Carl bounding beside her. I couldn't do anything but shake my head, trying to contain a smile.

As I started to eat the thick, lumpy mush of oatmeal, the food burning sweetly in my mouth, reconizing a dash of cinammon to the mixture, Hershel spoke to me.

"Feeling any better, Daryl?" he asked politely.

I gave a shrug, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth, wiping away excess food off my face with the back of my arm.

"Better, now that I'm eating," I replied, glancing up at him as I swallowed.

I took the glass of water and chugged it until it was empty. I resumed eating again. Hershel watched me for a moment, then looked down at Lil' Asskicker, who had started to whine. He reposititioned the bottle filled with baby formula and squeezed it gently, allowing her to happily drink without a problem. He shifted her in his arms then relaxed, waiting for her patiently to finish the bottle.

"Poor thing," he said quietly.

I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"'Scuse me?"

"Judith," he told me. "Little girl; she's going to be one tough cookie."

"Living like this? Can turn an Asian into a hero."

Hershel chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh Glenn," he said. "Everyone; we've changed quite a lot. Everyone seems to have grown thicker skin."

I glanced over my shoulder, peering at Carol somberly, before I faced Hershel again and nodded sadly.

"Yeah."

"Alright, everybody," Rick announced, standing up. Glenn rose behind him too, his face grim.

"Have you came up with anything?" Mitchone asked casually, her hand on her hip.

She was panting from her workout.

"We aren't leaving like last time, right?" Carl piped up worriedly.

"We can't just pack up and leave," Maggie said, gazing around the room. "We didn't leave last time and we made it through. The prison is ours!"

"I didn't say that," Rick drawled slowly.

He walked to the center of the room, turning in slow circles to make eye-contact with everyone who was listening.

"Glenn and I have an idea. We've thought it through and we planned it thoroughly. Some bits of information will be needed to complete it, but nothing a little jog around the prison won't do..."

Rick's gaze landed on mine, stopping him from speaking. He looked me over, up and down, then nodded in approval. He continued his speech.

"The plan will require all of us. Everyone is needed for the plan to succeed. Yes, it is a risk. Someone may walk away with injuries, but it's worth it for the real prize of our plan. As long as everyone pitches in, we shouldn't have a problem."

"So, what is it then?" Carol asked, growing worried.

"Revenge," Glenn said, stepping up beside Rick. "We can't just sit here and swallow what the Governor did to Daryl. We need to stand up for ourselves, show him that we aren't hiding from him. He has the numbers, but we have the weapons, the ammo, the prison; what kept prisoners in can keep Walkers and enemies out. A few little modifications, hunkering down in another cell, and our plan can activate."

"But what are we doing?" Mitchone inquired, staring at them suspiciously.

Rick and Glenn exchanged glances, then Rick spoke up.

"We're taking the Governor out."

The room erupted with gasps and sighs. Mitchone was glaring at the both of them accusingly; Carol and Maggie stopped folding laundry; and Carl was now standing in front of Beth, like a way of protecting her from Rick's insane idea. Rick ignored the movement and continued.

"Killing him. For real. Put a bullet in his head and it's over. That's all this problem needs..."

"You think that risking our lives, to end the life of another, is worth it?" Hershel questioned them.

"If the problems ceases..." Rick drawled.

"What do you mean by 'if' the problem ceases?" Maggie asked them.

"The Governor has a group," Rick told us. "Killing the Governor could either enrage them or scare them away..."

"But we're almost positive that they won't come after us," Glenn said suddenly.

"How can you be sure?" Carol asked.

Glenn paused to think, then spoke.

"The Governor is leading them. The group. He's leading bands of survivors..."

"Minus that black guy who had my crossbow..." I snorted.

"Yeah," Glenn agreed, his eyes shifting almost daringly at me. "But, think about it. Do you really think those guys want to attack us? You think they want to kill us as much as the Governor does?"

There was a blur of agreement.

"That's the Governor's idea. His plan. His orders to them. Based upon appearance and behavior, we believe that they're doing it out of the Governor's request."

"But belief isn't a strong supplement to support your plan, Glenn," Hershel said sadly.

"It's just one little thing we need to do. One thing! Kill him, the Governor, for good. No mercy, no hesitation. Gone. Where he can't hurt us no more. Look at what he's done to us! As a group! Just look! Daryl is total shit, Maggie was nearly abused and raped, and he killed Merle, Oscar and Axel!"

I blushed furiously when Glenn called me out, and behind me, Maggie was sniffing, wiping her nose angrily and pawing her eyes as she remembered the occurrence. Carol looked down at her lap mournfully.

"The death of the Governor won't repay for what has happened," Hershel told Glenn.

Glenn, though unhappy about Hershel's disagreement, remained grim.

"But his death could spare our lives," Rick said, walking up beside Glenn to speak. "For all we know, he could be planning an ambush, another attack. What if he decided to storm the prison? What if he releases another car-load of Walkers? This time, in the prison."

"You don't know that," Maggie pleaded.

"I'm fully aware that it could happen," Rick told her sternly. "I'm not positive, but I'm not going to sit here, praying that he'll leave us alone because he won't, unless he gets what he wants; our deaths."

Silence and utter stupor engulfed the room, the air becoming heavy and humid as if I were breathing through a wool blanket.

They can't, I thought. The Governor. They're going after him. They think it was him, that he attacked me. No. No, it wasn't! It was Carter! But they don't know that. They're going after the Governor for something he didn't do.

"We're going after him tomorrow," Rick declared. "We need all of you for this to work..."

"Count me out," Maggie said defiantly to Rick. "This, this is just crazy. This can't happen. This won't work!"

"I...I can't kill a man..." Carol said sheepishly.

"I refuse to be involved," Hershel announced to Rick and Glenn. "I know you feel it's best, but the value isn't worth the lives of us. There must be another way..."

"I'm not backing away," Glenn proclaimed through gritted teeth. "I want to do this. I'm going to do this, whether you help us or not."

"It's settled," Rick declared. "If you just want to sit here, fine. Glenn and I can take care of it. We'll kill the Governor and finally restore peace..."

"This isn't right," Maggie pleaded. "Glenn. Please..."

But Glenn didn't hear her. He scooped up the contents of the table in his arms and walked briskly out of the room without another word. Rick glanced around the room, his hand on his hip, before he, too, turned on his heel and left the room, following Glenn to a privy location to discuss tactics. Everyone, slightly surprised, slowly returned to resuming their activities. Maggie and Carol were hesitantly folding the clothes and Beth starting cooking again, stirring the oatmeal somberly with Carl by her side. He stopped trying to have a conversation with her.

I felt too sick to keep eating. Suddenly, the oatmeal tasted quite funny. My stomach felt queasy again and the lumpy meal reminded me of vomit, stealing my appetite. I shoved my bowl away and crossed my arms grouchily.

"Ain't hungry anymore," I growled, staring at the mush with disgust.

Hershel nodded slowly, accepting my decision, then started feeding Lil' Asskicker again, for she was growing restless.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! Well, school's officially over! I have another chapter but it's not really an action-packed one. Kinda an in between chapter but please read and tell me what you think. I hope you like it! :) thanks!_

I didn't see Rick or Glenn for the rest of the day. Apparently, they had been cooped up in another cell, mapping their routes, discussing techniques, and identifying possible locations the Governor could be hiding in. Not wanting to be involved, and though I knew I needed to stop them, the only way to cease their plan was to tell them the truth. It wasn't the Governor. He isn't here...I think. Carter did this. They're going after the Governor for something he didn't do. They aren't prepared for what he could really be up to. But if I warned them of going after the Governor, they wouldn't believe me. I would need a valid reason; there's no way in hell that I'm telling them an old man beat the shit out of me. I don't think they would believe me even if I did...

I basically had nothing to do all day. The women in the group were busy cooking and cleaning, and I even offered to help, but they refused and instead insisted that I get some rest. Ignoring their recommendations, I occupied myself by lurking around the prison mindlessly, kind of like a sleepwalker, entertaining my boredom by watching the women tidy up the place. I would sit here, walk there, watch this, watch that; the whole day was wasted doing nothing. It felt bad that my presence was in vain, but on the same note, it felt great to do nothing for once. Almost everyday is spent stressing over survival, worrying over the Walkers, and panicking about death. It was kind of like a vacation to just ignore it, even though the situation still persisted.

Throughout the day, through observations, I took note to the number of times I saw Carol. She promised that she would speak to me yesterday, after a good night's sleep, but she failed to approach me. Often, she would catch me watching her, and upon the realization, she would look away quickly, blushing as she tried to focus on the task she was performing. I didn't mean to make her feel uncomfortable or guilty. In fact, most of the time, I didn't realize that I was staring at Carol anyway. I spent much of the day thinking, wading deep in thought with glazed eyes and a still face. It wasn't until reality bumped into me that I found out my eyes were focused on Carol's fragile face, her rosy cheeks and her pink lips contrasting her pearl-skin, her sleek silver hair framing her head perfectly. I guess it could be accidental, but another part of me believes it was instinct...

What frustrated me the most was, whenever I saw Carol, she wasn't alone. In between cooking, cleaning, and bustling around the prison to complete chores, another person was occupying her presence; Carter. He stood over as she stewed meat in a big pot; he trailed alongside her, like a puppy, speaking eagerly with her as she replied with kind smiles and occasional chuckles; during breaks, they sat at a lone table, Carter just rambling aimlessly. Talking and talking and talking. Non-stop. I would have been fed up if someone followed me wherever I went, especially if it was Carter, but Carol seemed to be enjoying herself as Carter joked, thoroughly pleased with his conversation. God knows what they were talking about, but every time Carter whispered something to her, I could see an embarrassed, yet flattered, blush lighten her cheeks. I had to grip the seat I was sitting in with white knuckles to stop myself from rising and attacking Carter.

Eventually, dinner came around. After I was served a meager ration of stew, its origin from a dented can warning of an expired date, along with a slice of stale bread, everyone started getting ready to sleep. Maggie cleaned the dishes quickly, Beth started her nocturnal routines of tending to Lil' Asskicker, and Carol had left to check up on Glenn and Rick, bringing a platter of food for them since they refused to leave the cell. I ceased the opportunity and followed her quietly, hoping to get a chance to speak with her.

Carol delivered the meal to the cell, entering shyly as the men halted their conversation.

"Thanks," Rick muttered, without looking up.

"Get some rest, you two," she ordered them. "Just...you look like you could use it."

"Not until we thought through everything," Rick explained to her.

"We have to make sure it's fool-proof," Glenn added.

"It could be too risky," Carol warned them.

"That's why me and Glenn should be the ones going. To do this. If something happens, so be it. It's for the good of the group, Carol. Now, we need to discuss. If you would...?"

Carol nodded, though she seemed hurt, and left the room, closing the cell door behind her. The second she turned around, I was inches from Carol, startling her upon my sudden presence.

"Carol," I pleaded.

Her face fell, almost dreading this conversation. I felt a pang of humiliation, knowing that she never wanted to speak with me. It was almost embarrassing.

"I...I don't have time, Daryl," Carol faultered, shifting her gaze away from mine.

I searched Carol's face until her magnificent blue eyes contacted mine. I tried a smile, but she looked away. Remorse swelled in my chest.

"Why are you ignoring me?" I asked her quizzically.

"Look, Daryl. I just don't have the time.."

She tried stepping aside from me, but my hand caught her arm. Though I held her firmly, my grasp wasn't tight enough to strangle her. In fact, she remained standing as she was, even though Carol could have shrugged me off easily. I was thankful for that.

"I wanted to talk, okay? You promised. I waited and waited and you promised."

"You already know about the plan," Carol argued in a strained voice.

"Not just about the plan; about me!"

"What about you?" Carol demanded.

"What were they saying about me?"

"Who? What?"

"Them!"

"Who's that, Daryl?"

"Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel..." I said, counting on my fingers.

"Nothing," she snapped. "We weren't talking about you."

"Then what about Carter?" I challenged.

"Carter?!" she asked, dumbfounded. "What does Carter have to do with anything?"

"You and Carter," I clarified. "...how you just waltz around the prison, gossiping about everything and everyone..."

"What? No, Daryl. I was just talking with him."

"I see how he makes you laugh. There ain't nothing to laugh about anymore! What could be so funny?!"

"Carter is a very funny guy," Carol replied with a smile. "He loves to joke. They lighten the mood..."

I huffed a nasty snarl.

"All you do is parade around here with Carter, giggling like a bitch in high school..."

"Excuse me? Daryl, I was just talking with him. And it's getting late. Maybe another night's sleep..."

But Rick and Glenn are heading out tomorrow, I thought worriedly. Shit. If they find the Governor, accusing him of a crime he never committed, confusion would be either side. What if the Governor makes a move faster than Rick's?

"Oh, you hafta go? What? You're going to meet Carter in a cell? You guys gonna spend a night together?"

"Stop it, Daryl! No, I'm not."

"I'm not waiting another night for you to talk to me. Talk to me now."

"You're too emotional right now, Daryl."

"I ain't a cry-baby..."

"Didn't say you were."

"I ain't a bitch on a period. I can take it and I've been waiting all day."

"Well, I don't want to talk now."

"Carol!"

"I'm not talking to a pissed-off Daryl!"

"I ain't pissed," I muttered, although my posture and volume of my voice contradicted my statement.

"Daryl? Just get over it. It's nothing. Nothing! Okay? Just leave me alone, like what you always want whenever I come to talk to you. Every time. Every! There's nothing to know, nothing to learn, nothing about you! You should stop being so paranoid about yourself!"

Carol tore her arm from mine and brushed past me, shoving her shoulder into mine. I stumbled backward as she stormed down the cell-room, heading towards the kitchen. She didn't turn to look back or utter a word. She kept walking until she disappeared behind the door, her face tight with anger and her fists clenched.

I stood there like a dork, staring at the same location she had been moments ago.

Had she really shoved me? I thought. Did she push me away? Has Carol ever done that? Has she ever fought someone like that before? Certainly not to Ed. Carol didn't have the guts to stand up to him; does she have the guts now after so many varied yet similar experiences?

Thicker skin...

Above me, I heard a low chuckle, followed by a snide comment.

"Gonna let her push you around too?"

Jerking my head to the top of the staircase, I found Carter standing there, leaning against the railing cooly, wearing a sly grin. I stomped up the stairs, marching after him, insulting him under my breath as he remained still, standing his ground in a gleeful way. His usual, cocky self.

"You...you asshole. You mother-fu..."

The second I reached the peak, Carter extended his arm out towards me and grabbed a hold of my neck, clasping his big hand around my throat. I sputtered, teetering on the edge of the stairs, a horrible fall moments away if my balance shifted even slightly. I clutched the hand coiled around my neck, trying to pull away, but Carter squeezed tighter, threatening to close my windpipe. He held me so close to his face that I could smell his rotten breath, his eyes malicious and full of pleasure as I struggled beneath his grip. He hissed in my face.

"First ya ol' man, now that bitch? You were tougher as a five-year-old, and you couldn't even fight back."

He gave me a shove, releasing my throat, and I fell backwards down the stairs. Blindly, my hand hooked on the railing and I managed to prevent a nasty fall down the flight of stairs. As I recovered, gripping the handle like a lifeline against a cliffhanger, Carter snickered.

"She ain't a bitch," I told him, panting.

"Huh? 'Scuse me?"

"Carol; she ain't a bitch."

"Oh, so you went easy on her?"

"We weren't fighting," I argued irritably. "And leave her alone, you asshole. Enough."

"I'm just getting cozy," Carter joked, rolling his eyes.

I glared at him menacingly, but Carter only laughed. It brought a humiliated blush to my cheeks and I fought to keep my face from flushing beet-red.

"Stay away from her," I warned him.

Carter smiled at me, winking before he turned around and ran down the stairs, entering the same room Carol had entered moments ago. Though the conversation was muffled, I detected his voice, along with a female response.

Carol.

I grunted furiously, debating whether or not to go after him.

I heard high-pitch laughter.

Carter's entertaining her. Cheering her up. Like it's my fault...

I stalked back to my room, my shoulders hunched and my head low so no one could see my puffy eyes. I slammed the door behind me, backed into the bed from the shock of my abrasive action, then slumped to the floor, my face buried in my arms. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just sat there, remaining still, fighting the urge to spill tears, which only increased my anger. Trembling slightly, my lip quivering and my jaw clenched, I inhaled through gritted teeth and released a shaky sigh, blinking furiously as my eyes swelled. I remained there for supposedly hours, unmoving, until I eventually stood and settled on the mattress. Curling into a ball, not caring that I was still wearing my shoes, I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining myself years ago.

A filthy bedroom. Dirt and soot staining the furniture. The fragrance of oak wood burning to ash and bug spray wafting in the room. The solitude. The same loneliness I feel now. The aching pain from a recent beating, similar to the injuries I have this minute. The terrified screaming of my mother beyond the locked door...


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks for the feedback, guys. I hope you are all enjoying it. What do you think of it so far? There's still a couple chapters left. This next one isn't really action-packed, but I swear the next one is :) keep on reading!_

Tossing. Turning. Groaning in my sleep. Frequent kicks, sending the blankets off the mattress in a heap. My eyes squeezed shut, my muscles tense, my skin dripping with sweat.

"Stop! Daddy, stop!"

"No! Carter, don't do this! Carter!"

"You little bitch. You disrespectful, little bitch..."

"Daddy!"

"STOP!"

My eyes snapped open, releasing a shrill gasp as I bolted upright. I sat there on the bed, panting, the voices echoing in my head.

"Daddy...Daddy...Daddy..."

I plastered my face into my hands, furiously rubbing my eyes.

No, no, no, it was only a dream. Just a dream. A damn dream. Nothing. Nothing. Just a dream...

I dropped my hands from my face, using them to support myself as I tossed my legs over the mattress, sitting on the edge of the bunk. I waited for a moment, gathering a breath, before I rose hesitantly and stood in the middle of the room. My cell creaked softly as I opened it and I crept across the cell-room, taking note to the locked, occupied cells on the second level, the snores of my group quiet yet audible as they slept. However, one cell caught my attention.

On the first floor, about five cells away from me, was Carol's cell. I knew it by heart. I've been in there several times before and I've caught Carol retreating to bed every so often. The door to her privy room was slightly ajar, which confused me since every cell is locked every night; only someone with who had a master set of keys could unlock the door, and that included me and Rick. From being nearby, a deep, rough snore leaked from the crack between the door and doorframe. The snore was too masculine to belong to Carol's polite, high-pitched voice. My stomach immediately dropped.

I approached the cell cautiously, adjusting one eye in the sliver of space created by the open door. Peering inside, a stream of sunlight cut through the festering darkness, allowing a limited amount of vision. But upon a simple glance, I've seen enough. The sunlight caught Carol's face, framing her rosy cheeks and her full lips, which were puckered into a soft, sweet smile. However, Carol wasn't alone. Behind her, lying on the same bunk as her's, sharing the same blanket, their arm wrapped protectively around Carol's waist, was the last living person I ever wanted to touch Carol: Carter.

Appalled, disgusted and furious, I watched as Carol slept soundly, slumbering peacefully while Carter snored loud enough to attract the Walkers outside. Seeing the two curled up, Carter just hugging her close to his body, made me want to punch him even harder. Although Carol was covered with a blanket, it wasn't hard to figure out, seeing that Carter was shirtless, that Carol was nude to a certain degree too. I didn't know what happened, how it happened, or what Carter did to her, but Carter was about as important to me as a Walker; I could kill him if I had the chance.

I could kill him, I told myself, which almost surprised me. I could kill him. I should kill him. I can kill him...

Maybe it was my husky breathing that woke her, or maybe the sunlight that was casted on her closed eyelids, but Carol sluggishly opened her eyes, and the first she saw was me, staring at her with a grim expression. Her eyes grew wide, glancing at Carter for a moment, before she looked at me, panicking quietly.

Daryl? she mouthed to me.

I grunted and whirled around, storming away from the mating- cell, trying my hardest not to stomp on the cement floor, but my heels were slamming furiously towards the large foyer. Behind me, I could hear Carol scrambling out of the bed, Carter snoring obnoxiously as she fumbled to put on her clothes that had landed on the floor. Her cell door opened, creaking quietly as she closed it then ran after me.

"Daryl!" she whispered harshly as she chased after me. "Daryl! What the heck was that about?"

"What the hell's ya problem?" I said, turning to glare at her.

Carol's gray hair was messed up and she had purple bags beneath her eyes, probably produced by her lack of sleep due to Carter's active sleeping procedures. Her clothes were wrinkled from spending a night on the floor, and seeing the tag on the outside of her shirt, I knew that she was wearing it backwards, not realizing that it was inside-out. My stomach churned.

"How could you?" I demanded. "With him? Carter? Why the hell ya doin' that?"

"With Carter? No, Daryl, I wasn't."

"Then explain why you were sleepin' with him and why ya shirt's inside-out," I snapped.

Carol looked down and blushed madly.

"I didn't do that, but yes, we spent a night together."

"Without any clothes on, huh? How stupid do ya think I am?"

"Well, what would it matter to you? We both felt lonely and we decided that spending some time together would cheer us up..."

"'We decided' or 'he made you?' You said you barely know him! Why are ya suddenly bumping uglies with him?"

"I didn't do that, Daryl!" Carol pleaded. "I swear it!"

I looked away angrily, brushing wisps of my hair drenched in sweat from my eyes.

"I didn't, Daryl. And why are you so mad at me? Did I do something wrong, here? Is this my fault?"

"Ya shouldn't have done that," I told her.

"What is it that...?"

"I mean it," I interrupted. "Okay, whatever. I'm warning ya. It's gonna be Hell for ya..."

I turned to walked away, but Carol grabbed my shoulder.

"Daryl!"

I took her hand and squeezed it hard, facing her again. I took her other wrist, shaking them as a gesture as a spoke.

"He's not what ya think!" I exclaimed at Carol's mortified face. "He ain't nobody! Ya don't know him, he don't know you, and if he left Lorretta like that then he do the same to you as a complete, dumbass stranger! Don't give him what he wants! He'll just want more and more of ya, until you're neck-deep in shit like what Ed did to ya. You really want that? Huh? Do ya? 'Cause it comin'. Fast, and you can't stop it if you are gonna act like a dumb bitch and do as he tells ya!"

I stopped talking, regaining my breath, letting my words soak in. Carol seemed almost frightened, watching with horrid eyes as I stood there, gripping her delicate wrists firmly. Realizing how strong my hands had been, I released Carol and stepped back, watching as she replayed my words in her head, deducing them. However, her face demonstrated one emotion: confusion.

"D-Daryl?" she asked me, quizzically. "Lorretta?"

My eyes grew wide upon that name, and I looked down sheepishly. Carol examined me up-and-down suspiciously, trying to understand.

"Daryl?"

"Just listen to me," I answered her tiredly. "Stay away from Carter. I'm warning you. He's not right; he's not good for you. Stay away."

"Daryl..."

"I mean it. Stay away."

With that, I turned around and walked away, my head down, feeling Carol's watering eyes watch me leave.


	12. Chapter 12

_So next chapter I just revised. It turned out to be too long so I decided to cut it. Sorry! ^_^ Hope you guys are liking it so far! I really enjoy your feedback and I'm glad that you are all reading it. Thanks! :)_

She just doesn't understand, I told myself.

I was sitting at an abandoned table in the corner, eating a meager breakfast, while everyone else occupied the other tables, chatting amongst themselves happily over their bowls of steaming broth. I hunched over my bowl, shoveling spoonfuls of the warm, flavored liquid as I swam deep in thought.

She doesn't know, I told myself. Carol doesn't know. She doesn't understand. If she knew...oh God, if she knew. I want her to know, but...she can't. No one can. Carter just needs to be gone. Dead, for all I care. We move on and eveything's fine! Carter's the reason why we can't focus on anything else. He made me direct the attention to another foe, concealing his criminal identity. If everyone else knew, they would boot him for sure. Feed him to the Walkers, or even turn him into one as punishment.

I smiled beneath my breath at the thought of him as a Walker. Slimey skin; rotten teeth; pale, crystal eyes, lost of hue.

I could kill him. A knife, gun, my crossbow, whatever. He only overcame me because...because I wasn't prepared! That's all. He's not stronger. C'mon! A leaf is tougher than he is. Carter only had the upper-hand because he's older. But...he reminded me. He knew my weaknesses and entwined them with his fighting, rendering me helpless. I could kill him. If I only had the perfect time...

Upon deeper thought, I realized what I was saying: I could kill a man. Given a certain circumstance, I would kill him. I'm discussing how I can slaughter a human being. Innocent? No. But I'm talking so freely upon his death as if I were merely squashing a bug. I would be killing a living person if I followed my insticts. Murder.

I shook my head, swallowing another spoonful of broth.

Whatever, I told myself, dismissing the guilt. He deserves it. He deserves more than death anyway, but it will do. Carter was why I ran away, why Merle ran away. Even Merle admitted that if he suffered another beating, he would have killed Carter too. I mean, killing him? Can't be hard. If he could spend years beating the crap out of a young, innocent child still learning the basics of life, how could killing an old man be the wrong thing to do? He lived his life, made poor decisions, and now he's going to pay. Carter won't be missed. Who would miss him? Everyone would hate him if they knew. IF they knew. They still don't know. Would they ever find out? Would I ever tell them? Why should I consider telling them? It's a definite no! But, maybe...

There was a sudden uproar of chatter across the room, attracting my attention. Hershel was laughing heartily while Beth and Maggie were giggling hysterically, giving each other playful shoves. Carl was beaming around the table, grinning himself silly as everyone cackled at his joke. For what seemed like the first time ever, Mitchone was smiling. She was blushing and looking down at her food, but she was trying to contain a laugh, which made me smile too, until a thought occurred. I counted the table. Five people: Hershel, Beth, Maggie, Carl and Mitchone. There were four empty seats. Two were reserved for Rick and Glenn, who were presumably still discussing tactics about their ambush for the Governor, who, by a lie I told to save my ass of humiliation, apparently was the one who beat me up and left me for dead. Another seat would have belonged to Carter, who failed to show up for breakfast, and the last one, the smallest one, would be for Carol. My heart sank.

Carter's gone. Carol's no where in sight. I had a sick suspicion about it. That cannot be good.

As I abruptly stood up, Rick and Glenn suddenly entered the room, their arms full of maps and papers that they have spent hours furiously writing over. I had just crossed the room, about the exit through the door leading to the cell-room when Rick held out his hand, stopping me.

"What?" I demanded, slightly annoyed.

"You should stay for this. It's important," Rick assured me.

"So is this," I told him stubbornly, gesturing to the cell-room.

Probably thinks I'm going to the bathroom, I told myself.

"It can wait. You have to hear this."

"No. No, it can't," I muttered quietly to myself, but I obediently retreated to my seat, sitting roughly on the chair and crossing my arms, my foot tapping impatiently. I only had one thought on my mind the entire time: where the hell could Carol be? I already had a hunch. I just need to be there...

"Ok," Rick announced.

The room grew quiet, the air tense with anticipation of his speech.

"Have you two figured things out?" Hershel asked.

"Yeah," Glenn said. "We have a plan."

"What are you going to do?" Maggie piped up.

"Well, what we were going to do requires the knowledge of the Governor's base camp. Lacking such, we can't go through with our original plan."

I glanced up at Rick and Glenn hopefully.

Maybe they won't go after the Governor after all, I thought.

"However," Rick said, interrupting my positive thoughts. "We came up with a solution."

"You aren't going to just flag him down, are you?" Hershel asked, unsure.

Rick placed his hands on his hips and bowed his head, sighing.

"It's the only way..."

The room exploded with noise.

"You're really going after him?"

"He isn't an animal; don't hunt him out!"

"Are you mad?!"

"You're going to get us all killed!"

"That simply won't work, Rick," Hershel said over the noise. "It's too risky, and you'll both be tripping over each other. Not to mention you'll leave the rest of us vulnerable..."

"Then what do you propose?" Rick asked craftily, easing an eyebrow.

"We leave him be. Maybe he'll leave us alone."

"You really think that?" Glenn burst, his face flushing with rage. "You think the Governor will just skip away and leave us alone?"

Hershel watched him sadly.

"We need to take him out before he slaughters us all! This isn't something that you can ignore and it will just disappear. It's different! This man will kill you if you give him the chance. We have to get rid of him before he blows this place up."

"You can't prove that he's committed to do so," Hershel said. "There's no evidence of his presence here either."

"Rather be safe than sorry," Glenn told him, crossing his arms in confirmation.

I glanced at the door to the cell-room, my legs itching to stand. I clenched my hands tightly.

Not good, I told myself. Not good, not good. God, Carol! Where are you?

Time could be running out...

This isn't good. I need to be with her. Carter. Oh God. What could he be doing?

I didn't want to find out.

"You can't do this," Maggie begged to Glenn. "You're leaving us? Alone? What if he knows about it and kills you? What if he uses this chance to attack us while we're here?"

"I've had ideas about posting up, like what we did when his Woodbury army came to the prison. Failed at execution, but we drove them away."

"It worked, right? Why can't we do it again?"

"He could be expecting that. The Governor may already have a battle plan for it..."

I tuned out the conversation in the foyer. My eyes were fixed on the door. A sick feeling overwhelmed my gut.

"So you're just going to chase after him like an idiot?" Carl protested.

"No," Rick answered. "We're looking for him, and when we find him, we put an end to this problem. That's all."

"It's unreasonable," Hershel declared.

"It's legit," Glenn confirmed.

"We can't let you do this. It's too complicated!" Maggie said in a strained voice. "We can wait him out! We got enough food to stay put for a while!"

Though Maggie seemed convincing, everyone knew she was wrong.

"Another problem," Rick announced. "Food sources. With the canned goods deteriorating and the forest prohibited for hunting game, we're running out of options."

"Fried Walkers?" Mitchone joked.

Everyone except Rick and Glenn stifled a chuckle. I couldn't resist a smile either.

"This is serious business," Rick said with a grim face. "This could be a matter of life and death. Starvation could be around the corner. This isn't a time for jokes."

"We're aren't children," Carl said defiantly. "We take this seriously! We're just trying to lighten the mood..."

"Keep out of this," Rick told Carl sternly.

"Dad!" Carl bellowed.

"Stay OUT of this!"

"Everyone calm down!" Hershel shouted over the commotion. "Enough is enough! Time for a decision! You can't go on this trip, Rick. It's too dangerous, it's risky, and we can't let you."

"We already have our arrangements. We aren't swaying over to another conclusion. There's no way we are backing out of this..."

"You aren't retreating. It's another form of attack..." Hershel said wisely.

"For the last time we are NOT WAITING HIM OUT!"

Immediately, I stood up, my chair falling over behind me, and I sprinted to the cell-room, my crossbow already in my hand, loaded with an arrow.

"Wha- Daryl! What the hell...?"

I skid past a confused Rick and jumped around Glenn, who dropped the papers in his hands.

"God, Daryl! Wait! What are you-?"

Ignoring them, I entered the cell-room, searching around frantically.

"Carol?" I called desperately. "Carol!"

God. Oh God. Shit. What could have happened?

I darted past each of the cells, a quick glance inside revealing that each were empty. I counted until I was five cells away from my chamber, Carol's room, the only cell in the entire Cell Block C who's door was closed.

No. Jesus, no.

I reached for the handle and twisted it. The knob only jiggled in response.

Locked, from the inside.

I withdrew my ring of keys, fumbling with one in the lock until the proper key made the knob click. Tossing the keys aside carelessly, I kicked open the door, pouncing inside with my crossbow wielded.

How I managed to stay standing? I have no idea. The gruesome sight beyond the sealed, iron door was best to stay festering in the darkness. My knees grew weak and my face fell, but my crossbow was already poised, quivering slightly from anger. I would have preferred to flee, but I knew I couldn't leave Carol in the bloody, untrusting hands of Carter. From being a witness as a child and through a memorable experience, the occurrence inside Carol's cell was familiar, a repeat of history, yet oddly, though I was petrified at the scene, I was prepared for it. How? Simple.

I knew it would happen.

I always knew it would happen again.

_Ooops! Cliffhanger! Don't believe I've done that before. Don't hate! I got another on Monday! Have a good weekend! :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey guys. Sorry about the late chapter post. A lot has happened and I couldn't get to it (but it's long so hopefully it makes up for it...). Anyway, I've been debating whether or not I should post it. After the feedback, I've been considering about rewriting it to a better format. However, since I'm currently writing my next TWD story and I'm now juggling Driver's Ed, swimming, water polo, and a social summer, yeah, I may or may not do it. So here's the next one. I still have a couple more chapters after it but please tell me about it. (private messaging for more, uh, "encouraging" comments and "constructive critisim" would be appreciated) ^_^ lol thanks!_

The furniture and contents of the room have shifted about, describing an invisible scene. Ruffed up dirt on the floor, where someone had been taken down; the metallic scent of fresh blood, a fragrance that would drive Walkers mad, wafting in the room; feminine clothes strewn around the cell, bringing a sickening sensation in my gut. Carter stood among the debris of his assault. He was sweating madly, grinning wickedly at me as he concealed a knife behind his back. My arrow was aimed directly at his face, but he didn't bother to flinch or appear frightened.

Carter. Sly Carter. Trying to appear innocent in Carol's perspective.

A thought...

I traced the carnage of tattered clothes to the bunk, slightly hidden in a veil of darkness. The mattress, now bare, the blanket ripped from the cot, yet it was occupied. Submerged in the obscurity of the dank cell, a figure stirred upon my arrival. The bunk bed creaked slightly as weight shifted uncomfortably. A muffled cry. A distressed whimper. A beg for mercy. Beneath the curtain of shadows engulfing the figure, a pale face appeared. The blanket that was previously on the mattress had been twisted and bound to the individual's mouth as a gag. Wrists dripping in blood were tied to one end of the bunk while their legs were tied to the other end. There were frequent, sharp inhales through the nose since the mouth was blocked, and the individual wiggled helplessly, demonstrating the pain they were suffering. Big, luminous, blue eyes contacted mine. Innocent, frightened, panicking silently.

Oh Carol...

Remorse. Sadness. The wanting to cry. My throat tightening. Then, my grip on my crossbow tightened instead. My muscles tensed. My face flushed with anger. My eyes hardened on Carter, who was smiling dolefully.

"You. You, you all along. Bastard. You sick, slimy bastard!"

Carter merely crossed his arms, reclining against the wall casually. He twirled a bloody knife between his fingers, taunting his ability to use it. I adjusted my crossbow so he would realize my ability to use it.

"You think I won't?!" I shouted at him. "You simple-minded piece of shit!"

Carter gave a gloating shrug.

"Let. Her. Go," I said sternly. "Now."

Carter remained quiet.

"I said now! Do it or else I'll...!"

In a flash, Carter withdrew his weapon and was beside Carol. He shoved the knife into her neck, the keen blade jabbing into her throat. Carol's breathing increased, causing the blade to cut into her skin and draw blood with each desperate gasp. Choking on the pressure, panicking with the pain, feeling the blood ooze from the fresh wound, Carol tried to move away, but the knife was only pressed harder and harder into her neck, causing more blood to seep down her throat. Retching into the gag, begging for air, Carol's body spasmed, wracking as a defense to swallow air, but with no prevail. He was suffocating her.

I brought my crossbow closer to Carter, ready to explode.

"Shoot me or I'll slit her throat," Carter warned maliciously.

I didn't drop my weapon.

"Release her," I demanded.

"Shoot me or I'll-"

"RELEASE HER!"

"I'll kill the bitch!" Carter barked at me.

My hands were shaking, my arms growing limp. Carol's eyes connected with mine. Pleading, just pleading. I dropped my crossbow in defeat, glaring at Carter.

"On the ground," he ordered.

He flexed his fingers then rearranged them on the knife handle much more firmly. I did as he told, watching Carter with the intention of strangling him. I never had such a hatred for anything in my life.

With my weapon on the ground, Carter brought the knife away from Carol. She sputtered in the blanket, coughing madly as she tried to regain her breath.

"Untie her," I commanded him.

Carter laughed at that.

"You have no right to do this to her!"

He remained quiet, watching me with an entertained expression.

Like he's watching a TV show, I thought. He's taunting me. He's messing with me. Carter wants to see me explode. Like he's testing me. Observing. Not curious, but almost eager, anxious to see how I would react.

"I could kill you," I said in a low voice.

Carter frowned sarcastically, then grinned.

"I could kill you." My voice started rising in a dramatic crescendo. "I CAN kill you." I barked at him. "And I WILL KILL YOU!"

It happened in slow motion. With all my might, releasing a strangled roar, I pushed off the ground and charged straight for Carter. I lunged forward, my hands outstretched, aiming for his throat. As I neared him, I watched his eyes widen with surprise, then grow heavy from grim satisfaction.

I'm going to get you, I thought. I'm going to kill you, like how I always tried, but failed. But I'm not going to fail. I got you this time. There's no turning away. I can do this. You're dead to me...

Inches from him, my hands ready to fight him, I gave a choked shout. Behind me, my arm was grappled and twisted behind my back, causing me to stumble and fall head-first. I was yanked backwards, away from Carter, who stood in total shock. I gave the air a punch, fighting to free my right arm, when my other arm became tied down too.

"Arghh!" I quipped, as I was pulled backwards, being dragged out of the room. I thrashed about wildly, swinging my shoulders to shake my arms loose. Horrid visions of the Governor's henchmen dragging me to the pit to fight my brother flashed across my eyes.

"Let go!" I screamed, fighting the arms that caught mine and held them firmly. "Let go of me!"

"Daryl, calm down..."

"NO!" I exploded.

I leaned backwards, causing imbalance in the force projected to keep me from going forward, knocking the pair of arms that bound my left arm. Their grip released, and I was able to tear my arm free of their hands. My elbow contacted their jaw, causing them to topple, before I sprang forward again, literally scratching after Carter.

"You bitch! Fucking asshole! You did this! To me! To Carol! To ALL of us!"

"What?" exclaimed a voice behind me. "Daryl, what the-?"

"Him!" I exclaimed.

I ripped an arm free and pointed an accusing finger at Carter before it was drawn behind my back again.

"Him! That bastard! After all you did, you were nothing but trouble! I'm gonna stomp your ass!"

"What?" a voice asked, slightly startled.

"You did this to me!" I hollered, my voice cracking like shattered glass. "You! You all along! Manipulating us into your sick game! Damn near killed me as a lie to the Governor!"

Carter remained still, watching with his face awash in unknown emotion.

A sob hiccuped in the corner of the room. I could practically sense everyone's heads turning, directing their attention to the mangled body tied to the cot.

"Carol?!" a voice asked in surprise.

A short pause, realization swarming the room.

A click echoed off the cement walls. The turning of heads. Carter, standing straight, remaining still in the center of the room. He was gravely annoyed, yet growing worried, and it was then he decided to make his move. His arm extended out towards us, slowly, dramatically revealing a clenched fist that was aimed at the door. The contrast of light in the room was dank, making it difficult for anyone to discover Carol tied up on the bunk, but there was no mistaking what Carter withdrew from his back. At least, not until I collapsed to the ground.

The sound of the shot echoed loudly, cauterizing my ears into a ringing-trance for an eternity. My right leg immediately grew limp, causing imbalance that I couldn't sustain, sending me plummeting to the ground. I let out an exasperated gasp when I landed, heaving as pain engulfed my leg. The bullet had created a gash the size of my hand on my upper thigh, a gouge that was sliced clean to the bone and managed to nick a major artery. The flesh around the wound was scarred, almost burnt by the speed of the bullet, and immediately began to exude a sickening amount of blood, staining my pants and already beginning to pool on the ground. I inhaled sharply upon the sight of my leg, releasing a roar of anger, pain, and the want for revenge. I clamped a hand over the gushing injury, desperately trying to staunch the flow. All the while, Carter was stone-cold, his gun directed at the same location the bullet had impelled me. His gun turned to those standing in the doorframe.

"Down," he ordered sternly.

Rick and Glenn had their arms raised, obeying his command. By the way Glenn was clenching his jaw, I realized that it was him that my elbow had connected with and I immediately felt guilty, until it dawned on me that it was Rick and Glenn who were holding me back from attacking Carter. I knew that, from their perspective, they didn't see Carol within the chaos between me and Carter. An honest mistake, but an unforgivable one as well. If only they had released me...

"Down now!" Carter snapped.

Rick and Glenn got to the floor quickly. Glenn was distraught and concerned, casting occasional glances over his shoulder, while Rick was enraged. Carter had been agitated enough. He was fuming, prepared to fire again. The next shot could be through my head.

I flashed a glimpse at Carol, who began to weep. She was crying heavily, retching sobs that were threatening to tear open her chest, but the gag had silenced her. She caught my eyes, shooting pained, lamenting looks about my leg. I gritted my teeth, adding more pressure to my thigh to restrict the current of blood seeping through the cleft of flesh. Carol shut her eyes tightly, bawling as she witnessed the pain I was suffering. In a state of great annoyance, Carter drew the gun to her forehead.

"Shut up or else I'll shoot you too!" he barked furiously.

Carol obeyed, tears spewing from the seams between her closed eyelids. There was a great difficulty for her to breath and I knew that if she kept crying while her mouth was bound, she could pass out from lack of oxygen in less than a minute. I spoke up fiercely.

"Leave her alone!"

Carter didn't hesitate. He whirled around, detecting the pitch and tone of my voice, and fired again. A harsh grunt escaped my lips as a bullet penetrated my skin and lodged itself in the side of my gut. I bent over, rolling onto my knees while an arm coiled around my stomach where I had been shot. I was fighting to breath; my lungs were slowly deteriorating, exhaling as though I had the wind knocked out of me. Only able to take short, staccato inhales, I immediately became light-headed, my vision rotating and rippling like a disturbed pool of stagnant water.

"Shut up," Carter spat, his hand trembling with the weapon. "All of you: shut up!"

I was on all fours, like a wounded animal, cowering on the ground, completely defenseless. My head raised slightly, glaring at Carter with the most perplex hatred I could produce. My breathing was extremely labored, my gasps running dry and crackling as I panicked for air, which made me wheeze like a person having an Asthma attack. Carol's grieving became more audible.

"Carter," Rick assured him.

The gun jumped into Rick's face.

"Shut up!"

"Let's not do anything serious," Rick said quietly, maintaining eye-contact with Carter. "Just calm down; put down the weapon..."

Carter clicked the gun, reloading another bullet.

"One more word and I shoot," Carter warned.

"Easy now..."

"What did I just say?!" Carter erupted.

"No, Carter. It's..."

"Did I say you can speak? Did I SAY you can SPEAK?!"

"Carter, don't..."

"I'll shoot you in the head if you don't shut up!"

"Carter..."

"I said shut up!"

"Calm down. It's okay..."

"SHUT UP!"

"RICK!" I blurted, wincing as my diaphragm contracted suddenly.

Panting, sweat peppering my skin, I grunted another breath, fatigue overwhelming my collapsing lungs.

"Rick," I sighed drowsily. "Don't...just don't..."

I turned to my side and coughed harshly, a spray of blood showering to the floor. I was so worn, haggard just from the simple, living action of breathing. I settled down, wheezing as I clenched my side.

"That's right," Carter said, aiming the gun around the room to emphasize his power of dictatorship. "Now, back away! All of you!"

Rick and Glenn moved away from the doorframe, entering the cell with their hands behind their heads.

"Turn around! Not a word or a bullet's in your ass!"

They faced the wall, kneeling obediently to Carter's command.

"That's right," he hissed slyly, a grin curling his lips mischievously. "That's right. Obey me. Can't do nothing while a gun's to your head, can't ya? I pull the damn trigger and your dead. Right, Daryl?"

He turned to me, beaming as he enjoyed the suffering I was undergoing, the struggle to maintain a calm perspective, for rapid breathing and a thumping heart could shave my time to only minutes.

"Screw you," I spat at Carter. "Ya fucking asshole!"

"Careful," Carter taunted, toying with the gun.

He aimed it at me playfully, pretending to pull the trigger, which made me flinch instinctively, causing him to crack up. I remained stern, hiding the overwhelming agony of the lesions that Carter had created. He started to back out of the room, the gun pointed at each of us in case we tried to move.

"This world is gone now," Carter told us. "It's survival of the fittest now. The weakest, the caring, the puppy-loving idiots will die. The strong, the one's willing to end a life to save his, will thrive. So long as I have this here...?"

He shook the gun in front of our faces.

"Ain't nothing you can do. I can pick each of you off easily..."

"This doesn't make sense, Carter," Rick shouted at him. "What the hell is it that you want from us? What did you want? From the beginning! When we first met you! What was it?"

"A chance," Carter replied. "Enough trust to manipulate y'all into thinking I was an innocent survivor..."

"What for?" Glenn pressed. "Stealing from us? Taking the life we built for ourselves? There's innocent women and children here too! Our future!"

Carter just grinned wickedly, backing out of the room.

"Now, unless y'all want someone to die, I suggest you stay here..."

"Leave them alone!" Glenn shrieked.

"You take nothing!" Rick cautioned Carter.

He only laughed, facing us as he walked backwards out of the room.

"You think you can get away?" Carter asked aloud, directing the question to the rest of the group.

There was a painfully long silence.

"Think you can run from me? Disobey and I shoot ya! Hear me, ya bastards?!"

"Maggie!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Maggie?" Carter teased. "Maggie?!"

Glenn was livid, his face burning beet-re

"Oh, Maggie!" he taunted. "Come out, come out, where ever you are...and say goodbye to your little bitch!"

Through the door, I watched as Carter flipped his gun out and take aim. Glenn remained still, gaping at Carter intensely, almost memorized as he became the target for the next bullet. Just when I thought Carter had pulled the trigger, there came a dismantled howl of pain. The gun slipped from Carter's hand, landing on the floor with a crash, and like a defeated giant, Carter fell to the ground, writhing as he lay in a tangled mess. Behind him, her hand still raised, white knuckles gripping a lead-iron pipe, was a triumphant, yet oddly petrified, Maggie.

Everyone in the cell was too shocked to move, and even Maggie was surprised at her reaction. She hovered over Carter, staring at his quivering body. For a moment, she appeared solemn, almost as if she felt pity for Carter's sudden defeat, but within a second, Maggie's face turned hard and she tightened her grip on the pipe. In one swift motion, Maggie raised her arms over her head and brought the pipe down on Carter's skull with a sickening crack, ceasing his excessive twitching. She stepped back, panting, with a grim, satisfied face.

"Maggie!" Glenn called to her, jumping to his feet.

Maggie flinched, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights as Glenn approached her. Seeing that it was him, her shoulders fell, her hand grew limp, dropping the pipe, and Maggie collapsed into Glenn's arms, weeping uncontrollably.

I blinked slowly, examining Carter's still body, his skull fractured and his head displaying a terrible dent; a bloodless death. Gone. Just like that. That's all it ever took, and I wasted years running from him when I could have done that in his sleep.

No Carter, I told myself. No Carter. No enemy. No one to hold me against my freewill...

Immediately, I looked at Carol, who was already watching me with big, terrified eyes. Anger flushed my face, realizing that she was still tied up, and I scrambled to her, crawling to the bed with an arm coiled around my side. Without hesitation, I ripped the gag and tore it off her face, throwing it across the room as if it would try to seal her mouth shut again. Carol sputtered, coughing now that she was able to breath properly, and I began working on the knots. My brows creased, working feverishly, I fumbled with the ropes that slashed her wrists, leaving slits and lines of blood that seeped into the material. Balling them up and tossing it away, I pulled the ropes on her feet loose and then curled up over the side of the bed, breathing heavily.

"Daryl," Carol choked, her voice fluttering and growing watery.

I faced her somberly, peering into her eyes that replayed the scene over and over again like a broken tape recorder. She was roused with, shaking like a leaf, and petrified, but she wore an earnest smile as she returned a gaze.

"Daryl," she croaked, her voice shattering into splinters of speech. "I...I tried to...he ganged up on me..."

"No," I gasped, bending over as I felt a twinge in my side. "Carol, I should have...told you..."

"No, Daryl!" she wept. "No, please, no! Don't say that!"

Her soft, warm hands held my checks gingerly, her water-encrusted eyes leering at mine with fear. I let out a meek groan, the last exhale I could produce.

"Daryl, please don't. Please! Oh, Daryl. No!"

I felt my lungs pinching together, extinguishing what little air I had and expelling it out past my cracked lips. I tried inhaling, but it seemed as though my body could only discharge my breath. Carol started bawling, realizing what was happening.

"Don't, Daryl! Don't go! Oh, please! No!"

With foggy thoughts and a clouded vision, I raised the hand that was clutching my side, the only thing staunching the spewing wound, and frigidly raised it to her face. I let it glide down from her forehead to her cheek, caressing her face solemnly, leaving behind a trail of smeared blood that smudged her skin. Carol placed her hand on top of mine, her fingers lacing with my bloody digits. She searched my eyes frantically, calling my name.

"Daryl? Daryl! No. No no no! Daryl, please! Please!"

I couldn't hear anymore. Everything started fading, like the end of a film. Only, it would be the end of my life. My lungs seemed to be disintegrating, becoming withered and wrinkled from lack of air. As I swayed, my arm falling limply from Carol's face, I uttered a single word. A plea for mercy. A beg for forgiveness. An abstract apology.

"Carol," I rasped.

My eyelids fought, but closed, my limbs buckled, and I fell backwards, collapsing to the floor lethargically, my muscles languid and feeble, remaining inert.

_Yeah, so I don't know what you think but I'd like to hear! I'm going to hold off a post for tomorrow just for my sake. I'm kind of conflicted about how you guys feel. Thanks for reading! :) _


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey guys! A little day off and now I believe I'm ready to post again :) okay, so hopefully this chapter isn't too confusing. It shouldn't be, but it definitely is different from the rest of the chapters. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. I'll try to post again tomorrow. Enjoy!_

They say that when you die, you see a white light, meaning that you were in sight of God's Kingdom and on your way to your eternal afterlife in Heaven's unearthly estate. Bullshit. I was swallowed in complete obscurity. The air around me was murky, and what I presumed to be the sky was inky and nebulous of light, blending with the ground to make wherever I was seem tenebrous and vague. Everything was hazy, disoriented, and it lacked volume and dimension. There was too much space around me, causing an uneasy feeling to well up in my gut. It was like swimming in a motionless, coal-black ocean during a never-ending twilight, without the moon as a guide. I felt light on my feet, but the veil of darkness draped over my head like a wet blanket. It was the total opposite of Claustrophobia; for once, I wanted to be in the presence of the small, dank cells and the barbed-wire fences hugging the prison.

Weird, I thought. Where the Hell is everybody? Where am I?

There was a grand absence of sound, and although it brought suspicion, the silence was lulling, bringing tranquility and the solitude I never thought I would ever encounter, or not be thankful for having. What could be happening? I can't see anything. I tried looking around, but for all I knew, I didn't even move a muscle. Everything blurred in unison and there was a paucity of definition. An eerie silence, like when you are holding your breath as you are awaiting for an expected occurrence. Only, I had no clue what was going to happen.

"Hello?" I called.

But something strange happened; I didn't hear my voice. I tried again frantically.

"Hello? Hello! Anyone?!"

Nothing. Pure silence. A sense of loneliness swelled in my aching chest.

I'm alone, I thought. Where on this damn earth could I be? This isn't natural!

"Haha! Very funny, guys..."

Still, no words flowed from my lips.

"C'mon! You got me! Good one, by the way, now let me go!"

Nothing.

"Get me outta here! NOW!"

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Stillness. No motion, yet it was mind-tumbling. I was growing impatient, restless for an answer.

"Anyone!" I bellowed.

If I could have heard my voice, I know it would be quaking from rage.

"No. No no no! God! Anyone!"

The strong animosity towards the silence exploded inside of me. With a deep passion of pique, I opened my mouth wide and screamed, my vocal cords straining for sound, though nothing escaped into the air that would prick my ears. That's when the environment changed.

Suddenly, the cold, dank surrounding area started to transition. It went from a chilling, jet-black pigment to a dazzling white hue, though no clear definition or highlight of volume was ever detected. It became so overwhelmingly bright that I tried to close my eyes, but seeing that I couldn't, I looked away, though I was trapped in a focal point of light. I squirmed uncomfortably, grunting as the lucid atmosphere hurt my eyes, stimulating the production of tears. After a few moments, something caught my eye.

Afar from me, a small dot was swaying across my vision, sweeping from side-to-side as if trying to attract my attention. It was effulgent, casting a white-hot aura of light that was blinding to gaze at. I tried looking away, but every time I turned my head, the sphere followed the location of my eyes. It was stunning to look at, but I quickly grew furious.

"No," I said.

My voice wasn't audible, but I knew what I was saying.

"No, no, no!"

The orb, still hovering in front of me, drew closer. It grew larger and larger, until I was sure it was bigger than I was, and as it ate up the distance between us, its illuminated skin projected intense, scintillating luminescence that felt as though they were burning my eyes. It was as if I was having a staring-competition with the sun; I couldn't take much longer.

I started to squirm around, but my limbs felt heavy like logs and my feet were glued to the ground, or what I presumed was the ground. I started to panic, the ball of light expanding in size and gaining to my origin.

"No," I said, trying to look away, but the orb followed and continued to swish side-to-side, almost tauntingly. It was inching closer and closer, almost an arm-length away. Fighting my open eyelids, my limbs twitching, I was growing frightened.

"No. No no no! Please! Go away! No! No! STOP!"

Immediately, like a light, the luminous, radiant orb disappeared, and in an instant, I was once again engulfed by the festering darkness.

I was left standing, alone, swarmed by the obscurity of the unknown. And, like a child who lost their mother, I immediately missed the ball of light since it's a much preferred sight rather than being enveloped in a star-lass galaxy.

What was it that I saw anyway? I thought. The light...it was so comforting at first, but, at the same time, it brought fear. The darkness, for example. It's quiet, mind-numbing, but it's also terrifying, for the habitat isn't familiar...or natural...

I combed through thoughts in my head, desperately trying to remember what happened last.

A pale face; fearful blue eyes; a rosy cheek smeared with blood; muted lips that screamed my name...

Could...could that have been Heaven? I thought hysterically. Wait...am I dead?!

A horrible thought occurred to me.

That was Heaven. It must have been. But, I'm not there. I'm still here. Nowhere. If I'm not in Heaven, could I be in...in Hell?

I looked around again, though nothing new popped up.

This can't be Hell, can it? I thought. But, if I'm not in Heaven, or Hell for instance, then where could I be? I must be someplace, right? I can't just stay here. It's nowhere. Nothing exists here. No light, no sound; just me. If I died, I would be somewhere, shouldn't I? But, if I'm nowhere, then am I really dead?

I looked around again, though no new information prevailed. For a moment, I knew that it must be a mistake, an impossibility, but the thought of being nowhere terrified me. A horrible stomach ache growled in my abdominal cavity and my chest felt weak of air. I sighed, gazing through the curtain of darkness in an effort to see, but I couldn't see so much as a hand in front of my face, even if I could raise it to my face. It remained by my side, only capable of twitching my fingers. My legs and feet were the same; my toes could barely move too.

That's when I heard it.

"Daryl?"

My eyes grew wide, peering into the cascading obscurity that was as blinding as the light I encountered earlier.

Did someone call my name? I thought.

"Daryl? Daryl!"

There it was again, I told myself.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words were heard; my lips could barely open too.

How could that happen? I thought. If I can't even speak, if I can't hear my own voice, how could I hear another?

I strained my ears as I listened hard, giving a good, patient wait for a response.

Was I imagining it? I must have been. I haven't heard anything since I got here and now I can hear? What the hell...?

All of a sudden, my chest gave a sudden jolt.

I stifled a scream, a cry of alarm, as I felt it. My chest caved inward, being shoved with a ferocity then released to expand. It was pumped again, and again, feeling the weight of momentum applied in the same location as my heart, squeezing it with each rep performed. I felt myself stutter, loosing my breath as my chest retracted into my abdomen. It vaguely reminded me of when my father kicked me in the gut, making me keel over in pain. Only, this time, I had a strange feeling that each punch, each kick or whatever it was, had the intention to aim for my heart...

Another weird sensation; as soon as my chest was released, after about five occurrences, I felt pressure on my lips. Like an invisible kiss, my throat was swarmed with a warm air, a current that surged to my lungs then bounced back immediately. Another puff of air, the retreat of a tasteless, internal monsoon, then, almost rhythmically, the throbbing pulses attacking my chest started up again. All the while, I remained in the shade, completely still, unable to function properly while I spasmed without control.

How can I stop? I thought madly. Could this be my dying moment?

That's when I heard it. Not my name, no, but a low sound. Quiet, at first, then it morphed into a gradual crescendo that was echoing around me. It droned each time my lips parted, as my lungs swelled with an unnatural inhale; just an on-going, vacuum-like, sucking sound.

How weird, I thought. What could it be pertaining to?

I started growing dizzy, a wave of nausea delivering a swarm of revulsion and queasiness that nudged my stomach into retching. Swallowing the bile in my throat, another wind swept through my system and was expelled without meaning to; a forced breathing-pattern. The blackness around me suddenly produced depth. It began to swirl, stirring around me at a rapidly growing pace while I stood in the center amongst the waves. Soon, the coal-black hue of the hurricane whizzing by my face contained streaks of pearl, which eventually melted into a snow-white backdrop that swallowed my vision. My chest still contracting, my lungs bloated with air, a twisting tornado conforming around me, inducing Claustrophobia, the orb of light, like a tiny sun lacking it's golden luster, appeared again.

"Daryl? Daryl!"

I wanted to close my eyes, my pupils burning as the glare of the shining sphere hovered in front of me, but I couldn't. Stiff, weighted down by an unseen force, I became overwhelmed with the harsh conditions of my environment. The torrents were closing in around me fast; a sickness embedded itself into my gut, the urge of vomiting becoming unbearable; my chest felt numb and my throat was raw as breaths were drawn from me; it was a pure nightmare. I've had dreams where I re-encountered the numerous, and notorious, beatings that Carter gave me, the memory of seeing my house engulfed in flames with my mother inside, and witnessing Merle escape into the night while my father whipped out his belt, demanding that I spill the truth of my brother's whereabouts under the threat of a beating, but this one, whatever it was, was special. It was a combination of all my fear, twisted to a certain degree that brought ghastly thoughts of a true occurrence to mind.

Was it really real? Am I dead or is this simply an illusion? Is this what I'll see as I die? I pray that it's over soon...

"Daryl..."

The voice was disoriented, disembodied, and rippled like a disturbed pool of water. The white winds were whipping against me, but they started to slow down, growing sluggish as they churned beneath my feet. The orb was drawing closer as my chest was given another shove.

"Daryl!"

Let me be, I thought helplessly. Just let me die already.

I saw the sphere inching closer to my body, another breath fluttering in my lungs.

If I could just reach it, I thought. Maybe it will be over. Maybe it's my passage to Heaven. The end of my suffering. The beginning of a new life.

Closer, closer it came, simmering brightly before me. I wanted to reach out to touch it, but my limbs failed to move.

"Daryl..."

C'mon, I thought, urging the ball of luminescence towards me.

"Daryl..."

C'mon. Keep going...

"Daryl."

Almost there! So close!

If only I could extend an arm, then my fingers could caress the rays streaming from its shimmering skin.

"Daryl!"

A blast. A shock. The swirling, white cauldron that I rested in suddenly tipped over. Like a wave, a gust of wind, the air literally ripped from the space around me, the white currents shot forward, carrying me with them. I caught a glimpse of the ball of light before I entered it, feeling the impact as I penetrated it's undulating solar flares. The brightness melted to a meager warmness. Then, like a gunshot, my eyes snapped opened in alarm.


	15. Chapter 15

_****__Haha! Yay! Another chapter! XD well we are nearing the end of my short story (it's not like one of those on-going ones that could have like millions of chapters...) but I hope you guys like it :) anyway, I'm gonna hold off on a post for tomorrow since I have big plans with friends and family. Hope everyone is staying cool. Enjoy!_

A light. A white light. A blinding, white light. Nothing. Nothing. The pigment-less air began to differentiate, condensing into a blurred image. Little movement. Little sound. My ears were clogged and my eyes were slits, squinting up at the sky.

Is this what it's like? I thought. Is this really Heaven? Am I really dead?

Dazed, confused, my eyes lazily scanning through the thick veil of light, I made no attempt to move. I remained inert, puzzled as I examined the light that cradled my vision. I felt my eyes relax and become cross-eyed.

I...I am dead, I told myself. Right? Am I?

I blinked slowly, trying hard to think, but my mind was dull and empty. I felt as if a needle of morphine had been injected into my arm; I've got very drunk before, but never have I been so delirious as of now.

What could be making me feel like this? Am I still dying or am I already dead?

My eyes shut again. A throbbing pain pounded the inside of my skill, my eyes sore as if a screwdriver was shoved into my socket. Just when my jaw was opened manually and I detected pressure on my lips once again did I open my eyes, surprised to see the close-up of a woman's face.

My eyes snapped open as the individual hovered inches from my face, pinching my nose and placing their mouth over my dead lips. A breath leaped from their throat into mine, festering in my lungs erratically. A light was winking above me, creating a shadow over the individual's face that contrasted their facial features, making it impossible to identify them and place a name. But it didn't matter.

They are kissing me, I thought madly. They are kissing me...WHY the Hell are they KISSING me?!

As they exhaled into my mouth, the bloody hand that was resting beside me clenched into a fist. I smacked my balled hand against the ground, my fingers curling to grip the cement floor with my stubbed, dirt-crusted fingernails. A strangled gasp ripped open my chest as I inhaled sharply, my lungs bursting in an effort to breathe. My head grew fuzzy, my vision deteriorating as I coughed, hacking viciously with each convulse my diaphragm produced.

How long haven't I been breathing? I thought. All this time, I wasn't even breathing at all? At least, not on my own...

As I sputtered, a pain in my side caused me to curl into a ball.

The gunshot, I thought as I felt the warm, slippery blood soaking the hem of my shirt. The gunshot, the gun, Carter's finger on the trigger...

"Daryl?"

A distant voice. My face contorted and I rolled over, cradling my wound tenderly to ease the pain.

"Daryl."

A hand was placed over my shoulder, giving a gentle nudge to attract attention, but I ignored them, squeezing my eyes shut as I took shallow inhales.

"Daryl, come here."

A different voice. Deep, scratchy, yet welcoming and accepting. Another hand, a bigger and stronger one, took the same shoulder that was interrupted and rolled me onto my back. I winced as my torso extended, the muscles in my side elongating, provoking a greater amount of blood to ooze from the wound. At least when in the fetal position, the muscles would contract and condense, almost eliminating the pain that nearly convinced me to stop breathing; it was the only interaction that made breathing bearable. Now, with my abdomen extended, I had to juggle hiccups and hard swallows of the build-up of acidic bile scarring my throat.

Settled on the ground, a face hung over my head, leaning in close as if peering into my eyes. I closed my eyes and raised an arm to my mouth, shielding my face like a fearful child.

"Easy, Daryl," cooed a voice. "It's only me, Daryl."

I mumbled a reply, too delirious to give a logical response. I felt a hand pull my arm away from my cowering face.

"Daryl."

I peeked my eyes open, looking straight up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks of ware as a distraction. A face popped into my vision, examining me with a pondering expression.

"Daryl?"

I groaned, my eyes sleepily drooping over my dilated pupils.

"Daryl, stay with me. Daryl?"

A hand rested on my face, the sudden contact causing me to cringe and shy away, but warm fingers stroked my cheek, even as my eyes squeezed shut, demonstrating pain and strong emotion with the physical contact. I don't know why I didn't pull the hand away, but after I snuck a glance at who's hand it was, I'm glad that I didn't; it was Carol.

I felt my eyelids open, leering at the ceiling with fake interest as the room around me stirred. A face engulfed in white leaned over me, chanting my name.

"Daryl? Daryl, if you can hear me, please blink."

I sat motionless for a second, thinking about what the person had requested.

Blink? I thought. Huh. Blink...

Slowly, drunk with exhaustion, I closed my eyes and struggled but managed to opened them again.

After a short celebration beyond my blurred vision, the same person hunched over me again, bending down close to my face. Then, he withdrew a long, black object and held it a short distance away from my glassy eyes.

"Daryl?" he asked me.

I didn't answer.

Suddenly, a light flicked on, casting a circular, golden halo directly on my eyes. He swayed the flashlight back-and-forth, dangling it in front of my face as an experimental theory. Puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place...

An orb of light, I told myself. What I thought was Heaven...turned out to be a flashlight...

The man watched me intently as he exposed my eyes to the blinding light. Without meaning to, my eyes mirrored the same pattern as the flashlight, following the light each time it crossed my vision. Doing so, the man clicked off the device and sat back, nodding in approval.

"We're going to get you cleaned up, Daryl," another voice assured me. "Just hang in there..."

"Ain't goin' through shit again," I moaned groggily, my voice slurring in unison.

"No, man, you're going to be fine."

"Daryl?" asked a meek voice.

My eyelids cracked open slightly, allowing a slim glimpse of a woman leaning over me. Her face was smeared with fresh blood and her eyes were brimmed with tears, but her pink lips were curled into a soft smile. Her hand was still resting upon my face, her thumb slowly stroking cheek as she gazed upon me solemnly, longing for a response. I swallowed hard, my eyes closing from utter debility, my muscles relaxing from fatigue.

"I'm so sorry, Carol," I told her, grunting to overcome the increasing pain.

"Don't say that," she told me softly. "No, you're going to be fine."

"But Carol," I pleaded.

"It doesn't matter now," she whispered. "What's done is done. The problem's been fixed; there's no need to worry or point fingers..."

"But...I'm not forgiven..." I rasped, choking on a cough.

Carol's face puckered and she bowed her head as tears dribbled from her face. Her other hand, which had been resting quietly on my chest, had balled into a fist, gripping my shirt in the process. She remained there, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as Carol tried to recompose herself. Hesitantly, I raised my bloody hand and placed it top of hers, holding it firmly yet delicately, as if stroking a flower that had just burst its petals in the Spring air. I waited patiently for her to stop, and when she did, she looked up at me, chewing her lip nervously, as if awaiting another episode of cries.

"I never needed to forgive you," Carol declared at last, her voice shattering like broken glass. "I never blamed you for this. Any of this. Not one bit of it is your fault and you know that..."

"I let him into the prison," I told her, feeling guilty. "I didn't say anything about him. If I did, this wouldn't have happened..."

"Daryl..."

"It's my fault," I choked, inhaling harshly. "I let him. I did nothing to stop him, and look at him now...look at me..."

"Carter's dead," Carol pleaded. "And you have Rick and Hershel and Glenn here; you're going to be fine! Everything's okay..."

I looked away, her words melting in the air as I ignored Carol. Her thumb continually rubbed my cheek, praying for an answer, frantically searching for my eye-contact. I returned a hollow gaze; her eyes were veiled in tears.

"No," I said finally. "Nothing's okay anymore..."

Just then, Carol stood abruptly. Her hand left my face, leaving my cheek warm where her skin mingled with mine while my face drained in color, and her hand slipped from my bloody grasp. Towering over me, terrified, she backed away, gentle streams of tears slithering down her face. Her presence was replaced by a wall of filthy individuals, all of them unrecognizable due to the shadows that masked their faces. They encircled me, cocooning me, trapping me like a wounded animal.

"Carol?" I asked, raising my head. "Carol!"

"Easy, Daryl," warned a voice. "It's just us..."

"Carol!"

Immediately, I scrambled to my feet. I was doubled-over, the pain in my side making balance an impossible task to accomplish, but I still attempted to stand. Seeing my escape, they all closed in on me, a swarm of hands reaching out for me every which way. My head darted from side-to-side, dodging their arms as they tried to grab me. I bulldozed through a person, crying out in pain, crawling on my hands and knees with an arm hugging my side. I could feel blood seeping between the cracks of my fingers, gushing over my hand; a useless attempt to cease the flow of fluids.

"Carol! Wait! No!"

A hand grabbed the back of my jacket, yanking me backwards. I tried kicking, but I miscalculated their position and ended up landing a hard kick on the wall. Another hand took a hold of my arm, looping it behind my back, plastering me to the ground.

"Calm down, Daryl! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Rick, what do we do?!"

"What the Hell is up with him?"

"Daryl! Stop!"

"No!" I shouted, releasing the hand from my side to throw a bloody punch. My left arm was bound behind my back and I threw my shoulder into the person, causing them to stagger backwards. I launched forward again, but this time, another person lept on me, tackling me to the ground. I landed hard, fighting to breathe as the individual applied pressure to my back, restraining my arms. I kept kicking, squirming on the floor, thrashing my head from side-to-side to shake them loose, but with no prevail.

"Let me go! No! Carol! Arghhh!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Daryl! Jesus!"

"Carol!" I howled, completely oblivious. "Wait! Wait! No!"

I groaned as my hands were tied behind my back, rendering me helpless. I jerked my shoulders, fighting whoever managed to pounce on me, but I barely shifted a muscle; I was exhausted. A pool of blood framed the left side of my hip.

"Towels! Water! Hershel, get the supplies!"

"Got them here..."

"Roll him over, we need to get started..."

I coughed weakly as I was tossed onto my back. My head fell backwards, hitting the ground with a dull *thud*. My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my throat raw, dry, and scratched from my screaming. Dazed, I remained quiet as people who had gathered around me unbuttoned my shirt and tore it off, delicately cutting the fabric that stuck to the wound with a knife. A damp towel acted as a compress to absorb the blood and staunch the injury, but within seconds, it was swapped again with a fresh bandage.

"We need medical supplies..."

"You got any?"

"Yes, but the problem is, the gunshot wound won't be easy to treat."

"How so? You treated Carl just fine."

"And I'll have to do the same; that's the problem."

"Surgery?"

"The only way..."

"We can make it work. Maggie, get more towels. Fetch Hershel's tools..."

"Okay, Rick."

"It won't be easy. I had to put Carl under in order to remove the bullet pieces; I don't have the right medication and pain-killers to get Daryl to cooperate."

"Any ideas?"

"No. I'm afraid that I'll have to do it without proper aid and care, but if we don't operate soon, he could pass out and his heart could stop again; I don't know if we can revive him another time."

"We'll have to take that chance."

"It's no guarantee..."

"A chance is better than giving up. We better get started."

"It's going to be Hell in here. Where's Maggie?"

"Here they are, Daddy. Is that all?"

"Yes. Should be all."

"Everything okay? Can we proceed?"

"Ready when you are..."

"Daryl?"

A light shake on my shoulder.

I blinked lazily, my mouth slightly open, my breathing husky and congested with mucus. A short pause. An irritated sigh.

"I'm sorry, Daryl."

The second the cold, metal-pointed tip of the needle contacted my skin, burrowing deep into the inflamed flesh to dig and extract the bullet, my back arched and a horrible roar echoed the prison walls. As the scream died, my body grew limp and I once again became submerged in the familiar, coal-black environment, drowning in a lifeless, soundless, glass-slate of black water.


	16. Chapter 16

_Okay, so sadly, this is my final chapter :( poo poo! I'm kinda disappointed to end it but I honestly have no where to take the story. It's short and sweet, I guess, maybe a little Caryl going on lol but hopefully it wraps up the Fanfic nicely :) upon a couple suggestions, I've actually decided to write an epilogue! Yay! XD it won't be a full chapter but I figured it would be cool because I have an idea down :) lol okay so I hope you guys enjoy this last one. Thank you for reading and taking your time to comment and help me out ^_^ be sure to stay in touch because I have another FanFic coming out soon *insert advertisement here* ;) haha! I'll post the epilogue on Monday. Bye! Please enjoy :D_

"It's a miracle that you survived..."

"Yeah? No shit."

"You were lucky. Don't underestimate that."

"Ain't gonna happen again."

"You don't know that. In a world like this, it could happen tomorrow."

"In a world like this, there ain't no world tomorrow."

I sat on the edge of the mattress, hunched over my knees with my elbows resting on my thighs. I hung my head low, wisps of my hair drenched in sweat falling over my eyes, concealing part of my face. I didn't bother to swipe them back; the entire group had gathered in the cell, standing in the doorway and leaning against the wall to take part in the meeting. I already felt self-conscious being in their presence without a shirt on, revealing a huge bandage that was wrapped around my torso several times. Basking in the limelight within the conversation would kill me; at least my uncombed, tangled hair acted as a curtain, masking my flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes. I hope they didn't detect how raspy my voice was becoming.

"Daryl."

I turned my chin up slightly, peering through a veil of frayed hair to glance at Rick. He was sitting across from me, seated firmly on a stool, his hands on his knees. He, too, seemed exhausted. Not injured, no, but there had been a great deal a stress during the past few days; the truth about Carter, the group's status, my condition. I recently woke up, still feeble and weary, after another coma. My body was starting to take a toll. They thought I was dead, almost positive, but I recovered not so much as an hour ago. After everything, even though Hershel worried that I may pass out again, Rick called a meeting. An urgent gathering. The problem needed to be sorted through. It needed to be understood, once and for all. Couldn't blame him, even though I preferred to sleep. I still have a hard time processing what happened...

"Ain't easy," I told Rick, looking away.

"I must know..."

"Already do know."

"Tell it again," Rick urged me.

"What's there to say? You saw what he was like; charming, friendly, trying to be helpful. He acted like a pet to ya'll, following ya'll around to do whatever job he stumbled across. He gained ya trust, lost all suspicion, and attacked. You guys were too damn-stupid to realize it."

I looked away, huffing an irritated sigh.

"I'm pretty sure you were as oblivious as we were," Rick replied.

"Was not," I scoffed.

"Daryl," Rick warned me.

"Knew he was trouble, knew he had something in mind, but...yeah, okay, I didn't think he was gonna go that far..."

"And, to be clear..."

"Yes," I interrupted him. "Carter beat me. It was him, not the Governor."

My cheeks burned red, pebbles of sweat peppering my forehead.

"...and you never told us?" Glenn asked in surprise.

"No," I admitted, cowering away like a busted child. "I didn't. So what?"

"So what? We almost went after the Governor!" Glenn erupted. "We had no idea that it wasn't him! The only reason why we were going after him was since we thought he did that to you! That could have killed us!"

"We didn't know that," Rick stated firmly.

"We almost went out there demanding the blood of an innocent..."

Glenn paused, clearing his throat.

"...a man who was innocent to a specific crime," he finished. "That could have gotten us in a load of trouble. Could have put us in jeopardy!"

"Well? I'm sorry," I spat. "I guess I'm the only one here who would be humiliated to be beaten by his own father..."

The room grew quiet, straining as my words hung in the air like thick smoke. I kept my head down, avoiding the eyes that watched me intently. I grunted, shifting on the bed uncomfortably.

"You know what?" Rick spoke up. "As mad as I am for being lied to, after seeing the flip-side, I understand."

A short pause.

"You say that he did that to you before?" Rick inquired.

"Years," I replied. "As long as I can remember 'til I was 12. Ditched him then. Never saw him 'till now."

"Shouldn't be something you should be ashamed of," Maggie piped up encouragingly. "It might have been that fact that he dominated you as a child and your instincts still believe that he can."

"But not anymore," Rick assured me. "Carter's dead. His body's going to be burned to ashes. He won't be missed."

I grunted.

"Maybe instincts, maybe the fact that he dominated me for years, but I'm still terrified of him. Could probably beat him in a race, probably beat him in anything he throws at me, but what he does, what he did, I'm helpless against. It was like I was a child again. Couldn't do nothing to save myself. Could only lay there, taking his punches without retaliation..."

"He's gone now..."

"That doesn't make up for what he has done..."

My hand felt the bandage on my side. I had another one on my leg, but it was concealed by the brown pair of jeans that I was wearing.

"We can fix this," Rick told me. "Carter's dead, you're still alive, even after everything; it couldn't get any worse."

"Walkers aren't half as bad as Carter," I joked.

A couple chuckles fluttered around the room. My chest grew lighter.

"We'll have to move on, I guess," Rick said, standing up. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You did well, you stuck it out, and look around; we're all still here. I don't think you understand how grateful we are that you are still alive. It was because of your quick-thinking that you saved us. You too, Maggie."

Maggie smiled, blushing from the attention. Glenn wrapped a protective arm around her waist, kissing her forehead sweetly as she nudged closer to him. Though Maggie was pleased with herself, she admitted that she still felt guilty about what she did, though Rick convinced her that it was the proper action.

"Everything's going to be fine," Rick told me.

He smiled then turned to the group, nodding at the door. As everyone filed out, Hershel stayed behind.

"Rest some," he ordered. "You're going to need it. Food should come shortly, but the last thing we want is for you to fall into another coma."

"That would suck, huh?" I asked him.

Hershel nodded grimly.

"Don't be too active," he warned, then he turned around and limped out of the room on his crutches, closing the door behind him.

"Finally," I muttered to myself.

I reclined on the stinky mattress, adjusting my head on the pillow to get cozy. "I can actually get some alone time."

But almost immediately after I closed my eyes, the door to my cell opened and closed, and I sat up in the bed, surprised to see Carol standing in the doorway.

"Carol..." I gasped, but I barely had anytime to say another word for instantly upon her arrival, Carol stumbled after me and jumped into my arms, hugging me tightly.

She was leaning on me too much and I fell back, hitting the wall that my bunk was placed against, but Carol didn't let go. Her arms were coiled around my neck, her face burrowed into my shoulder. She didn't say anything. Carol just remained there, silent, trembling slightly as she hugged me. After a couple moments of awkward silence, almost stunned by her interaction, I gingerly wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her back, holding her tenderly on my lap. An eternity passed when Carol took a shaky inhale then wheezed, digging her face into my neck as she sobbed. Slightly aghast, I spoke up.

"Carol...?"

"Oh, Daryl!" she wailed, hugging me tighter. "Daryl! I thought you died! Oh, I just couldn't take it! After everything..."

"Carol, I'm fine," I assured her soothingly. "What's the matter?"

She pulled back, still seated on my lap as she sniffed, pawing at her watery eyes in embarrassment.

"I thought you were dead," she told me. "I just got so sad and I was mad at myself and I started growing depressed and I felt terrible! I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep; I thought you would never wake up!"

"How long was I out?"

"A couple days..."

"You haven't eaten since?"

"Why SHOULD I have eaten?!"

"We don't need another person in a coma...Carol, that was, uh...sweet?...of you, but you don't need to starve yourself for me. What good would that do?"

"I didn't starve myself to help you," she insisted. "I felt terrible and you looked horrible...I thought you were going to die...I thought I was going to die..."

"Carol..."

She turned away, bowing her head. I reached out for her, thinking a hug could calm her tense nerves, but upon seeing her lips quivering as I neared her, I pulled away, almost annoyed.

One second she's hugging me to death, and now she won't even touch me, I thought angrily. What's gotten up her ass?

"Why are you so mad at me all of a sudden?" I inquired.

"I'm not mad!" she promised.

"Oh please," I spat.

"Daryl! I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just stressed, that's all..."

"Makes two of us," I said, rolling my eyes.

I guess that maybe I was just a bit mad that's she didn't hug me back, even when I offered a rare embrace.

"What do you have to be mad about?" Carol asked me suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't know," I said sarcastically. "World's shit, my ol' 'Daddy' is dead, and now you're mad at me."

"Who said I was mad?" Carol asked, perplexed.

"You just are," I told her.

"I said I wasn't!" she pleaded. "It's just stressful..."

"Then I'm sorry that I'm just dead weight on your shoulders..."

"It's not like that, Daryl!"

"If I'm just annoying you, if I'm just a big goddamn problem in your life then just go. I don't need you in my life either."

"No, Daryl!" Carol begged. "You have it all wrong!"

"Bossin' me around, telling me how stressful I am towards you, I mean, seriously, what's it about me? Am I doing anything to you? Did I ever lay a hand on ya ever before? No; that was Carter, and that was ya own fault for trusting him."

"My fault?!" Carol demanded. "Last time I checked, you trusted him at one point too!"

"So?" I enthused.

"I'm not the only one who got burned by his trust. You did too! How else would you have known that Carter would burst like that? Lucky guess, huh?"

"I wasn't stupid to fall for it a second time..."

"Did not!" Carol screeched.

"I warned ya," I interrupted her. "I WARNED ya. And what did you do? Got closer to him. Since when is my input not dependable? Since when have I ever lied to ya?"

"Maybe Carter's trust wasn't the only thing that burned me..."

It was like there was a wall between us. An invisible, impenetrable curtain that divided us, sealing off communication, eliminating external noises, engulfing us both in silence. Carol, sitting stiff and tense on my lap, while I slouched against the wall, my shoulders caving in. A flap of greasy hair fell over my eyes, and I looked away, growling under my breath. I could feel Carol's nerves tightening as she awaited an answer, straining as she debated whether or not to speak again. She knew me. She knew me well. She's learned my ways, she took note of my reactions towards these kind of situations; she knows what to expect out of me. Carol knows better than to protest. She knows that my anger can drive regrettable actions; she didn't want to press any farther.

Quietly, she stood up off my lap and backed away shyly. I looked up at her, watching her disperse towards the door. Just as she turned around, retreating out the door, I jumped to my feet and called for her, almost too loud since she was beside me.

"Carol."

My hand fell upon her shoulder. She whirled around to face me, her eyes swollen with tears. Carol gazed up at me, waiting, just waiting, but I did nothing. Her hand glided up my cheek, brushing locks of tangled hair from my eyes. She bit her lip nervously, almost worried that I would react negatively to her interaction, but I displayed a solemn, grim expression, leering within her crystal eyes passionately. Another hand rose to my face, resting upon other my cheek while her other hand cradled another. Her thumb stroked skin, causing my nerves to prickle with excitement and my heart to pulse at a rapid tempo. Without thinking, my hands rose and curled around her waist, barely brushing her skin until I softly rested them upon her and drew her body closer to mine.

Our faces were inches apart, our eyes locked, our noses connected. Her sweet breath mingled with mine and her scent, a pine forest after a shower of mint rain, wafted in the air between us. Being so close, her features became enhanced. Her eyes were magnified, like peering into the core of a chiseled sapphire, and her pupils dilated with eagerness, the anxiety of a considering kiss causing her breath to quicken. Her flawless, milk-white skin seemed to glow in the dank cell, giving the impression of her skin radiating a timid aura. Her gray-streaked coiffure was messed up, fizzled with sweat, and spiked due to a prolonged avoidance of a shower; just the way I loved it. Her lips. Her full, pink lips, delicate as the petal of a dying flower, yet vibrant as the hue of an infant tulip. So fragile, so lovely, so delicate. If a kiss wasn't careful, her lips could break like a fire-streaked leaf off a tree at the dawn of autumn.

I found myself staring at her lips as I chewed on mine, wondering if I should lean in. Carol's lips curled into a small smile as she caught my nervousness, her cheeks blushing with flattery. She looked down, hiding her shy smile, before she gazed up at me again, stifling flustered giggles.

"Carol," I began, clearing my throat.

She raised a questioning eyebrow when she detected the roughness in my voice, growing worried.

"Carol, I..."

A finger pressed against my lips, interrupting my statement. Carol smiled warmly, hiding a laugh at my confused reaction. She shook her head, her eyes bright and dazzling while enclosed in such a dark environment.

"There's no need to apologize," she whispered softly.

The hand that previously silenced my mouth was resting on my left shoulder, her eager fingers toying with the collar of my denim jacket. After adjusting the hem of my shirt in a flirty manner, she looked up at me again, flashing a grin.

"There never was a need..."

"...but I need you..." I choked out.

Carol laughed at that. Not harshly, but it was a sweet, high-pitched, and genuine chuckle, admiring my newfound courage to admit the emotions I've kept discreet for so long.

Counting the years of my childhood, secured by Carter and my daring older brother, until the dead rose against the living. Just speaking with Carol was a release of feelings; all the anger, all the sadness, just melted away, replaced by tranquility and a spiritual state-of-mind. Every little thing, every little problem, seemed like no big deal. Carter is dead. He's gone now. All the years I've endured his presence, and all he needed was a hit to the skull. He's gone. No more. No more beatings; no more cruelty; no more pain, suffering, and the wanting of mercy. Carter's dead. His body is going to be discarded, thrown away like trash. No service. No memorial. The scars that he carved into my skin already hold enough memory of his life and how he abused his presence. The freedom that comes with Carter's death; like an animal released from his captivity. Everything that was kept inside seemed to flow out of the cracks, the seams on my body; the scars. My fears, my hatred, those aspects of life that bring a rare smile, they all leaked from me, and the first one to discover them was Carol. She knew about me all along. She looked past the filthy, hard shell that I cowered in and saw a scarce, colorful personality. Carol was wise to know that I could be guided to a new beginning, that extracting my emotions physically could aid my journey down a new pathway, one that's more rugged, the one that isn't mapped out or traveled often, but one that's wide enough to accompany many others who will walk along with me. She knew that all this time, and immediately upon detecting the shatter of my shell, she was there to pull me out of the glass shards and help me stand, for the first time, by myself. The caring relationship between me and Carol; I never thought that it would dig this deep into my life. But now, now that I'm here, standing beside Carol, with Carol, I can't imagine how I could end up like this without her guidance, her parental caring, and the fondness that has developed over the past year.

"Daryl," Carol started. "If anything, I messed up. I should have known..."

"And I should have told you," I told her earnestly.

"I shouldn't have been so stupid to fall for it..."

"Ya ain't stupid..."

"Everyone here was oblivious," Carol emphasized.

She dropped her hands and backed away, slightly hurt.

"Glenn was so positive that it was the Governor; Rick was secretly panicking too; everyone had no clue. We were too distracted by nightmares of the Governor that we didn't stop to consider Carter for a moment..."

"Mistakes 'ill happen," I said in a fake apology.

How they didn't know, how they didn't figure it out, it bothers me. Sure, it seemed unlikely, and that everyone hardly knew the guy, but when sudden suspicious occurrences start to happen upon the arrival of a new member, there must be a hint of suspicion, right? The group is forgiven, in a way, but on the same note, I won't trust them to figure things out by themselves, not without my input.

Carol hung her head in shame. She shifted nervously on her feet, hugging her arms into her chest. I heard her breath quiver as she sobbed silently. I stepped up encouragingly.

"You can't let something like this bring you down..."

Carol sniffed, wiping away a leaking nose with the back of her hand.

"There are worse things, worse creatures, out there beside Carter. He was just one of them. If you can take a Walker, you can take Carter."

"Carter wasn't human," Carol muttered. "A Walker isn't human either. But, I couldn't kill Carter like the way I kill a Walker. I...I just couldn't."

"What about me?" I asked her. "Couldn't kill that bastard for years."

"You knew him," Carol explained. "Of course it would be harder."

"You knew him too," I shot back. "And you knew him in a way I never thought was possible; like a friend."

Carol dropped her head, her face puckering as she shed more tears. Biting her lip, she looked at me.

"You know what?" she challenged, her voice cracking. "Ever since Carter came, the relationship between us has been distant."

She wiped away a tear angrily then laughed nervously.

"I've been crying a lot more lately too. I'm such a baby."

"Aw, girls cry every month," I said, flapping a hand.

"Do not!" Carol protested, although she couldn't resist a smile.

"Besides, it was just bad timing of events. Shouldn't be a problem 'more."

Carol looked up at me, brushing away a tear and smiled as she choked on her sadness.

"Thanks, Daryl."

I nodded slowly, flashing a rare grin. She blushed and dropped her crossed arms, holding them behind her back shyly. There was a short period of awkward silence, followed by a low grumble erupting from my stomach. An idea came into mind.

I walked towards Carol and she tilted her head up towards me, eager for what I had to say.

"Don't know 'bout ya," I told her. "But I'm starving."

I extended a polite hand, offering a gallant escort like a gentleman.

"Wanna get something to eat?"

She eyed me curiously before her fragile fingers entered my grasp. Creatively, she looped her arm through mine and edged close to me, grinning as she stifled a giggle.

"Good thing, too," I replied, walking out of the cell with her, our hands connected. "Been craving squirrel forever."


	17. Chapter 17

_Welp, guys. Sadly, this is the last installment of Like Father Like Son :( I honestly can't believe that I made it this far. I thought that I would never end it and that it would go unfinished and undiscovered, but hey, I made a special little epilogue :) for the last time for this story, please read and enjoy ^_^ hopefully I'll see you guys soon when I post my next TWD FanFic :) thanks! Lots of love 3_

"Daryl?"

I raised my bowed head, looking up at the harsh light radiating from the sun dangling high in the sky. My arms were crossed and I was seated on one of the old, rusted bleachers, getting the fresh air and space I so desired after spending days regaining strength in a crammed and cluttered cell block. It felt nice to be outside again, to be exposed to the traditional environment that God had intended before civilization and modern advancements, to be bathed in a blanket of warmth from the sun while slightly chilled by a breeze filtering through the surrounding foliage that engulfed the prison, where the ghost of the Governor supposedly haunts. It soothed my tense nerves and cleared my head, dulling my thoughts. I needed to get away. There was no fighting between us, no conflict or anything. Everyone was cool, tranquil, and had resumed their daily routines of striving through a long day; cooking, cleaning, and maintaining the most lively lifestyle we could withstand amidst the presence of Walkers and the threat of the Governor. But, I was still healing, trying to regain the balance that was lost after the incident with Carter. What better way to heal and cleanse my wounds than to be in my most familiar and natural estate? The wildness. At least, being outdoors. Rick and Hershel were strict to keep me within the prison walls, but I bartered for a time to relax outside. They only agreed since there was some unfinished business to take care of that must be done on the paved lot.

Again, I told myself. Like a child. Treated like one 'til I'm better. Figures...

"Daryl?"

I glanced up, lost in thought, to see Glenn standing in front of me. I hid a grimace and huffed a sigh.

"Almost done?" I asked him, slightly annoyed.

No one made me angrier than Glenn. Sure, he was the nicest guy of them all, damn smart too, but ever since he returned from that run at that damn Walmart or whatever, his mood had grown sour. I suppose it was from Carter, an early detection of an untrustworthy person, but what confused me was why he didn't piece it together. It was obvious that Glenn didn't like Carter, but how come he never accused him? For a smart-ass, Asian geek like him, he should have known. Forgiven, to a certain degree, but tensions between us have been tight and cold. It was probably colder between him and Maggie.

Thicker skin...

"Uh..." Glenn said, checking over his shoulder to inspect a large pile of wood, arranged accordingly to take the form of a cone; easiest way for a flame to catch tinder and swallow the branches and twigs without dying. "Yeah. It's almost done."

"Great," I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Wait, Daryl?"

I raised my head, growing impatient.

"Uh huh?"

"Look," he said, growing tired as well. "I just wanted to apologize..."

My eyes grew wide, but I remained neutral.

"What for?" I persisted, not satisfied.

"Everything," Glenn admitted glumly.

I smirked, observing his reaction.

"'Kay," I said, shrugging it off.

"No," Glenn told me. "Daryl, I need to apologize. For real. And, and not just for anything. I mean, what happened between Carter and stuff...I feel like it's my fault."

"So you let him in?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell no!" Glenn spat, almost disgusted that I thought he has done so. "That was Rick's idea. Hated the guy already."

"I thought he saved ya ass."

"Could have saved myself," Glenn said grumpily, crossing his arms.

"Uh huh," I agreed sarcastically, shooting him a gloating look.

We both knew he would have been a goner if that Walker reached him. Rick said he was inches away before the bullet skewered the Walker's skull. No one could walk away from that.

"Hey, how come ya didn't like him? Like, still hate that bastard, but, ya know, he was nothin' but a stranger to y'all."

"Because I didn't want anymore members of our group," Glenn replied. "With the Governor stalking us and supplies running low, I mean, haven't we got enough mouths to feed? Supplies were running low already, and God knows how long it would even last.

"True," I told him, nodding somberly. "Man eats like a damn pig."

"Another week and he would have eaten half of it," Glenn said intelligently.

I shrugged.

"Okay, but, honestly, I hafta know; did ya ever consider Carter...?"

"Sort of," Glenn answered sheepishly, dropping his arms. "I almost went after that asshole until you told us that it was the Governor, and then..."

"...determination took over and that's all ya wanted," I finished for him, growing weary.

"I didn't know you had lied!" Glenn exclaimed in defense.

"Can't blame ya," I sighed.

"The Governor took Maggie," Glenn emphasized. "Okay? He- he made her do things to humiliate her, criticize her, just to spare my hand."

He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

"I- I don't want this man to run away knowing he had done that to the only person on this world that I love and care for. And, and then you told us that it was him and, man was I mad. I thought he had gone on a rampage. I thought he was going to kidnap someone, bomb the prison, I don't know but I just became so..."

"Man, chill," I told him, grimacing.

Glenn sighed, relaxing his hands so they dangled by his sides uselessly.

"You deserve an apology," Glenn said. "And, man, you have every right to be mad."

"Ain't mad," I told him earnestly. "I mean, yeah, I lied to ya so then I guess we are both at blame so whatever."

"I've just been treating you so bad and I felt like you would appreciate it if I explained myself..."

I shrugged.

"Man, it shouldn't be stressed over anymore. You were acting like that 'cause of the Governor. Carter does that. He got under everyone's skin..."

Thicker skin...

"He won't anymore," Glenn finished.

He picked up another log and placed it strategically in the pile, careful not to disturb other wood sources.

"Carter is going to be ashes in minutes. Frying him like a Walker."

"Rather be frying chicken," I retorted, biting my lip.

To that, Glenn happily chuckled, sending a small smile and an appreciated shrug my way.

"Sorry, man. Me too."

I couldn't hold back a smile either. It was the smallest of conversation. Casual, nonchalant, just discussing the past few days, and suddenly, everything swiveled around back to normal. Glenn, though still furious at the Governor, had just misdirected his anger and now turned it away from the group, mostly from me. The poor guy was just stressed, frustrated with the Governor's plans and paranoid about an attack. He was fighting a sluggish relationship with Maggie while trying to restore it, but struggled due to his intentions of a redemption of his ego and a solid revenge, not just for me, but for Maggie's sake too. When I had lied, Glenn dove into overdrive; his goals were enhanced and he was more determined to fulfill them, all the while, his amiable personality had deteriorated and his follower-role had diminished, forming a make-shift leader beside Rick. It wasn't his fault, at least, not entirely. Glenn was looking out for me, for Maggie, for all of us, just in a harsher way, I suppose. The man has changed quite a bit, but it was only since the Governor had inflicted so much pain and anger towards him, physically and mentally, that Glenn's mind collapsed, replaced with motives that would drive the Governor to the ground, ending his life, ending the troubles. Glenn was back, though. He redeemed himself too. The apology wasn't what brought this geeky pizza delivery-boy to his senses; it was Carter's death caused by his love, his girlfriend, Maggie. She actually kept Glenn sane, keeping him from growing violent from determination. If Maggie wasn't there, Glenn might have ran from the prison to the kill the Governor himself, which could have resulted in his own life. But the Governor isn't here, for now. The conflict within the prison has subsided, for now. Hopefully, it will be a long while before anything drastic happens to us all. Maybe we can return to a more relaxed lifestyle. Obviously, still aware of the Governor, but hopefully we won't be fearing him 24/7. The latest of our problems are gone now; why not relish the moment with familial bonding and the much-needed relaxation?

It sucks that there ain't no Cable here. Nuthin' coulda been better than a cold beer and NASCAR.

Glenn bent over the wood pile, making cautious adjustments to the wooden structure. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Rick, Mitchone, and Carl heaving Carter's body, heavily wrapped in stained sheets from old mattresses from the cells, down the staircase. With Rick and Mitchone holding either end of the body and Carl marching beside them, assuring their grips and safety, they made their way across the paved lot, heading towards me and Glenn, still hunched over the heap of lumber. He glanced up, eyeing the mummified corpse.

"Is that...?" Glenn trailed off, slightly mortified.

"Is it ready?" Rick simply asked, nodding to acknowledge Glenn's question.

Glenn sighed, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Yeah, just about. Need some flammable tinder to get it started but then we should be good."

"Perfect," Rick relied, he and Mitchone setting the body down.

Mitchone swiped her forehead of sweat while Carl eyed the wood pile with interest, fascinated by the production and tender caring for a fire as any young boy would be. I, however, couldn't take my eyes off the body cocooned in blood-splattered blankets.

Carter. That was Carter. Wait, that was Carter? How? He was alive a couple days ago. Alive. He was alive. A guy like that was given a life; a life that he ended up abusing as an excuse to catechize me and Merle, and drill commands that if not performed to his expectations, we'll be punished severely. Slaps across the face. Punches to the gut. Beer bottles thrown inches from my head. My body was complete punching bag full of sand in Carter's mind, and I had the scars, bruises and lifelong injuries to prove how my childhood innocence was twisted. Twisted into a knot. Everything became backwards, I guess. A child should never lived in a flipped world.

Being exposed to these kind of things as a child really took an effect later on. Excluding school from a daily routine, making me and Merle junior delinquents in educational fields of study; living in fetid conditions of an open-home cabin illegally, inhaling the fumes of Moonshine as if they were secondhand smoke; my father's drinking problem. Period. His blind rampages, his emotions running wild, his hands twitching erratically as he slurred orders, only to get furious at my refusal to bring him more, resulting in a beating. My mother's useless attempt to stop him. My mother's desperation to get away. Why didn't she go away? She tried. Tried and failed. While Carter was passed out on the couch, Loretta hauled me and Merle to the family truck, flooring it as a high-tail plan of action out of the shit-hole. Barely made it a mile before Carter emerged from the woods, sweating, his face dripping with rage, blocking the road as he pointed a gun at the car, with me and Merle watching him in shock. Then, sitting in my bedroom, all alone, waiting. Just waiting with sore muscles and a dry throat, scratched raw from screaming. Merle cooped up at the base of our bunk bed, one hand tied to a pole with Carter's belt. I had undone it, but Merle had blacked out; I was left to listen, shaking violently, as Carter and my mother fought beyond the locked bedroom door. Screaming. Things knocking over. The shatter of glass. Then, quiet. Stillness. Utter silence. Hesitant gasping, panic rising in my mother's voice. The unmistakable click of a gun reloading a bullet.

My eyes suddenly burned with tears, my throat condensing as I inhaled shakily. I shook my head, refusing to feel pity for the mangled cadaver that lay rotting in the pavement.

He deserves it, I told myself, choking as I stifled a sob. That asshole deserves it. No doubt. No doubt. But- but why do I feel like crying now? Since when have I ever cried, like c'mon! Of course, before all this shit rained down on us, but since when?!

Rick and Mitchone, ignoring my watering eyes due to the respect I had enforced them to through bent down and picked up either end of Carter's corpses. Hoisting with their legs, they brought Carter to the pile of wood and tossed him on top of the lumber carelessly, kicking him aside like dirt. With Carl watching with big, bug-like eyes, Rick withdrew a matchbook from his pocket, flipped it open, and pulled out a single match. Glenn readied a pile of flammable tinder, using shredded paper and a small heap of bark that I had instructed them to strip from trees to cradle the spark. Glenn placed it at the base of the set up, backing away fro Rick to get close. Holding the book firmly, he placed one end of the match at the rough edge of the book and after a quick strike, a flame danced at the point, consuming the limited wood resource of the match. Rick brought the flickering flame to the pile of tinder, the flame brushing against the paper, about to catch, until I stood abruptly, waving my hands.

"Stop! Wait!" I called. "Rick, no!"

Before Rick could react, I swiped his hand away, the lit match leaving his hand and collapsing inches from the tinder. I stomped on it, crushing what little light was produced. Mitchone, Glenn, Rick and Carl were staring at me as if I had grown two heads.

"What the hell was that about?!" Mitchone exclaimed, slightly shocked.

Carl's hand instinctively went behind his back where his gun would have been placed.

Rick looked up at me, standing so we could be eye-level. He looked me over with concern.

"D-Daryl?" he ask, aghast. "Was something wrong?"

I stood there, looking around at all of them as they watched me in horror. I was sweating like crazy and panting like a sick dog.

Panting? Why the Hell was I panting?

"N-No," I stuttered. "Don't- don't burn him."

"Well, obviously we cannot keep him," Mitchone retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

"That's what we do to bodies, Daryl," Glenn clarified as if I hadn't already known. "Remember?"

"I thought you wanted this," Rick told me, watching curiously.

Though he was shaking with what I had done, I was surprised at how calm he was after I had scared him with my abrasive action.

"We bury him," I blurted, growing worried. "We don't burn him."

Everyone eyed me suspiciously.

"Bury him?" Mitchone asked, slightly annoyed.

"We thought you wanted to burn him," Glenn piped up, growing somber.

"Daryl," Rick said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You told us, didn't you? Just the other day..."

"Carter wasn't good," I interrupted him. "He was never good. I can fill a damn book with his shit, it's true, but I don't wanna burn his ass. He gets buried."

"Really?" Rick asked, genuinely surprised. "You'd go through trouble just to bury him when you could just toss him flames and let him shrivel up like that?"

I bit my lip then nodded sheepishly. Everyone exchanged confused glances.

"Any particular reason, Daryl?" Rick questioned me.

My gaze fell to Carter.

"Giving him the biggest bite in his ass," I replied, my glassy eyes examining the dead body. "That ol' bastard never did nutin' for me except for bruises. I never did nutin' but fight back. But, maybe there's something I can work with that Carter could never accomplish..."

"What do you mean?" Glenn asked, cocking his head.

"Burning him would be the biggest revenge and disrespect towards him," I admitted. "True shit, but maybe, with a little respect, Carter might just be...remorseful; the biggest revenge yet. Not being able to make up for anything he did; me, being the stronger one of accepting it and finally, finally, moving on."

There was a terribly long period of silence as everyone shifted awkwardly on their feet, their eyes shifting between the cadaver and me. I kept my eyes hard as they watered, stinging as a layer of salted water formed over my pupils.

"Daryl," Mitchone complained, crossing her arms.

She huffed an irritated sigh. The hands that dangled wearily by my side clenched into fists.

"So, now you're going soft? What's that all about?"

"The sudden change of heart," Glenn said, more to himself. "Actually, that's a praising thought..."

"Ridicules," Mitchone said, emphasizing her statement. "We were going to burn him. We set up everything and now Daryl changes his mind..."

"It wasn't too much trouble to set this up," Glenn assured her, gesturing to the wood pile. "And I highly doubt dragging Carter was a big deal considering your physical condition..."

"...but digging a grave for a man who doesn't deserve it will," Mitchone shot back through gritted teeth. "I'm not wasting my blood and sweat for a man who threatened us. Both of you."

She casted grim looks at Glenn and Rick, both responding with worried glances.

"He held you both captive, a gun to your face. He tied up Carol like a rag doll, throwing not only a woman's rights, but that woman's dignity, pride, and ego too. And you..."

She pointed a finger at me.

"He shot you. Twice. TWICE. He spent years bullying you, beating you, and shot you with a gun to prove himself as the leader; an Alpha. I would throw his body into the ocean if I could. Want to give him the worst? Let him turn. Cut off his arms and legs and I'll sever his jaw. Let him walk around; let him slowly die. Why should a cheating man EVER get pity?!"

She stood, gasping before us. Mitchone's eyes suddenly dilated, scanning each of our confused faces while her's was contorted with horror and realization. A hand slowly raised to her lips, almost shocked that those words ever came from her mouth.

"I- I'm sorry," she whispered, fumbling with her words. "You know, I just- I couldn't..."

She backed away slowly, her voice fading and drifting from our conversation. Mitchone bowed her head, humiliation flaming her cheeks. Rick and Glenn turned back to me.

"You know," Rick drawled, eyeing me closely. "I guess, I understand what your saying..."

"I just thought..." I stuttered. "I thought that maybe it would be a worser punishment. Either let him die as he should, as he deserves it, or in the most unlikely way that he thought his life would end. It was never out of pity..."

I snuck a glance at Mitchone, who was watching me carefully. Her eyes glinted quickly, realization of her verbal felony flashing before her enlarged and pulsing pupils. I nodded at her, accepting an unneeded apology.

"...I wanted to do this because I hated him. I hated him so much that I wanted to show him what he didn't deserve, but what he'll get anyway; that maybe his dominance peaked during brawls, but this will be stronger than anything he has taken down. Maybe, somehow, it might...correct...the wrong in Carter..."

"Daryl," Glenn piped up. "Carter's dead."

I nodded somberly.

"I know that."

A small pause.

"Carter's my father," I announced to them all. "He may not have been a good one, but he's mine. Being the last of his rotten family left, I have my rights to him. It's my decision whatever happens to his body. It's my choice, and right now, my choice is clear; Carter is to be buried."

Mitchone twitched at that. She sniffed quietly and wiped her hand under her eyes before looking up at me, biting her quivering lip. Glenn watched me through weary yet sober orbs glazed with tears that have yet to leak down his blushed cheeks. Carl had migrated to Rick's side, almost fearful of my speech. In return, Rick had wrapped a protective arm around his son, but his face was set, starring at me with grim yet understandable approval.

"'Cause no matter how shitty this world gets, we accommodate to it..."

I glanced around at them all as they marveled at me.

"We grow thicker skin to withstand the next wave of pain due to come..."

My throat had started to tie itself into a knot, obstructing my delicate words.

"...and Carter had brought a lot of pain to us..."

I felt a dry cough tickling my throat, but I swallowed it and ignored it as I meekly croaked out the last of my words.

"...but in this world, where pain is around every corner, we learn to cope with it. It's only supposed to be us and the dead..."

A long pause.

"...but now, the living are becoming just as dangerous; just as pain-bearing..."

Glenn sobbed inaudibly as my words tumbled. It was obvious to who he was thinking of that had brought the most pain towards him; the Governor.

"...but even with that, we have no reason to dismantle our humane traditions..."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep steady and sane as Mitchone and Glenn had tears drizzled down their faces. Carl remained motionless, taking in my words through small amounts while Rick was stone-cold.

"...we don't kill the living; only the dead, and we bury our dead; we don't burn them."

Another long silence.

"No matter how painful it becomes, we can never forget that."

I sent sterns looks around into each of their eyes before I turned away, dropping my head.

"Never..."

_And...that's it :( hope you guys liked it. Thanks for a great start :) love u all. Enjoy the summer! 33_


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